


Snuggle Me Senseless

by InkEros (thacmis)



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Awkward Romance, Charles Is a Big Dorkface, Cherik - Freeform, Crack, Cuddling & Snuggling, Erik is actually a Sap, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Love Triangles, M/M, Misunderstandings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-07 09:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3169604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thacmis/pseuds/InkEros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Lehnsherr is a cranky mechanic who made a drunken bet with his friends. And he lost. Badly. Now Emma's signed him up, for an entire bloody month, to have one of the stupidest jobs ever created in history and his new boss (who also happens to be one of the winners in the bet) is in on the joke. </p><p>Charles is a lonely professor, genius, billionaire and serial flirt who seems to have the perfect life in everyone else's eyes. But his sister knows better. Worried for his mental well-being, Raven makes him sign up for this rather odd, but interesting, product. With nothing to lose, he agrees.</p><p>They meet. And things happen, as things usually do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Snuggle Me Senseless

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Обними меня покрепче/Snuggle Me Senseless](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4304190) by [Deiko (Gellert)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gellert/pseuds/Deiko)



> Snuggle Buddies is an actual cuddling company. I don't know how anything about how the company works; I only know that I saw its ad in passing several days ago and it was just too cute to pass up a Cherik opportunity for it.

-Part 1: It Was Just Checkers-

 ***

"I won, Erik."

" _I don't care._ I am not doing that. I will do anything else, but that."

"Sorry, sugar, that wasn't the agreement."

Erik growled and stared daggers at his friend - no, _enemy,_ now - and hoped vainly that the figurative daggers would pierce Emma's stupidly smug grin.

"I won't do it," he said again, flatly.

Emma rolled her eyes and turned away with a flick of her gorgeously coifed blonde hair. "You told me, 'I'm a man of my words'. And to date, you haven't proved that wrong. I won the bet. You're getting signed up to work for Snuggle Buddies whether you like it or not."

"What if I don't do it?"

"Well, no one's going to force you at gun point, if that's what you're asking. The only thing you're going to lose is your credibility. You reputation. Image. Honour."

Erik cursed. Emma got him there. If there was anything he prided himself on more than his ability to work magic with metal and engines and gadgets, it was his reputation as a scary baddie that never went back on his words. And knowing Emma, if he didn't go through with his side of the bet he made on one slightly drunken night with his friends at Hellfire Club, playing checkers or something equally stupid, all of his friends would know the next day, as though she had telepathically messaged them all about Erik's defect.

Languidly, his ex-girlfriend-turned-best-buddy studied her sparkly silver, perfectly manicured nails. Waiting for his answer.

Erik sighed in exasperation and fell onto the couch with his face in his hands.

"I'm glad to hear that, sugar," came Emma's voice. "But your answer was more of a formality. I called Azazel already. You're going to Snuggle Buddies Headquarters tomorrow at 3 o'clock to get briefed on your new job. Have fun, dear." Emma went to her bedroom and closed the door.

Erik felt like he was going to cry.

Emma was a great person. She really was. They'd been best friends at first, then lovers for a short while, moving in together, before both decided that they were better off as friends. But as much as he loved her as a friend, she was so _infuriating_. It was her nature, and for the most part Erik enjoyed her particular brand of insanity, but only when it was directed at other people.

Somehow, Erik had lit a bonfire of a beacon to become a victim.

And now, he was going to work part time as a freaking cuddle buddy for their friend's baby company. "Snuggle Buddies."

 _Never get drunk again_ , he thought with resolution.

***

_Snuggle Buddies._

It even _sounded_ stupid.

He'd tried to advise Azazel against such a dumb venture, but apparently Azazel, Emma and Janos all thought it was hilarious and chipped into helping Azazel make his "dream" possible. It had started as a joke, but now it seemed to be monstrously popular, and Erik was gawking up at an enormous glassy building thirty stories high in the busiest parts of Manhattan, a "Snuggle Buddies" sign wrought in three tonnes of steel by the entrance, in a font too elegant to be appropriate for words "Snuggle Buddies".

"You've never been here, have you?"

"I thought the idea was just a joke."

"It _was_ a joke. Now it's a _big_ joke with lots of money."

"Snuggle Buddies," he muttered angrily.

"Don't say that like it's a curse," Emma quipped beside him, wrapped fashionably in a stunning white cashmere sweater and scarf. "You ought to be proud of our Azazel. It's actually an amazing idea, you know. And you're going to be a part of it. Be honoured."

Erik silently fumed all the way through the entrance and up thirty levels to Azazel's penthouse of an office.

"Erik!" Azazel boomed, standing up from behind his large mahogany desk. He strode over and pulled Erik into a rib-crushing heart. "My friend. Thanks for choosing to work for SB. It means so much to me."

"I'm sorry, did you just say 'choosing'?"

"Emma, darling! _So_ good to see you again."

"Same to you, hun."

"We were together _last week_. Checkers. Remember?"

"Erik, don't be such a spoilsport," said Azazel amicably, pulling them both to a nicely designed sitting area on the other side of the office. Coffee and refreshments were neatly placed on the table already. "Come, sit."

They plopped down onto the dark red leather seats which, Erik had to admit, were pretty comfortable.

"So," Azazel began. "You're going to work for me."

"I don't understand why you want me to. I'm going to _lose_ you customers." It was true, at least in Erik's mind. He had a tough, angular body full of hard muscles and sharp bones, and a smile that rivalled that of a great white.

"Nonsense," Azazel said, trying hard not to laugh. "people are going to _love_ you."

Even Emma giggled.

Erik rolled his eyes and reached for a butter biscuit.

"Even though you're here as a friend and I'm granting you many minutes of my incredibly busy and important schedule," said Azazel, tapping at a remote embedded in his armrest, "you still have to do some paperwork and sign some agreements, although it'll be less than usual because I've waived a few of them for you."

"That's so much trouble. Why are you doing this?" Erik asked, wiping crumbs off his lips.

"Because you lost a bet."

"You know that's not what I mean."

"Because it's fun? Erik, you're the grumpiest, most serious man I know alive today, maybe even in all of history. You need to lighten up a little or life is going to become one long rainy day for you."

"What's wrong with rainy days? I like them."

"Erik," said Emma in exasperation. "You really do need to smile a bit more. People walk a three meter radius around you because the grump you exude is thicker than expired peanut butter. It's bad for your own business too, haven't you noticed? Your mechanic shop is getting less customers every year."

"So think of this as a…gift of happiness, from your best friends to you."

Erik had nothing meaningful to say to such nonsense, and he waited as one of Azazel's secretaries brought up a package of paper with very small print.

"Here it is, your paperwork." His friend selectively pulled a few pages out and handed them over to Erik. "That's the general mission statement of Snuggle Buddies, that's the workplace policies, a couple of signed agreements here, regulations and rules…oh, here's the tax return form, you're getting paid for this at the same rate as a regular Snuggle Buddy…"

"Could you just let me know the brief process and the few big rules I must absolutely follow? All this other stuff is common sense, and you _know_ me, so let's just get this over with."

Azazel grinned. "So much trust in me. I'm touched. Are you sure you don't want to read them over yourself?"

"Azazel, please."

"All right. You'll have two parts to the job. In the first one, what's going to happen is an intermediary is going to email, phone, or text you - whichever you prefer - on the details of whoever had requested a Snuggle Buddy. The details include age, gender, address and times at which you can go to meet them. Reply back with the most convenient time, you'll get a confirmation, and then you can go."

"That's it?"

"Well, there's a more complicated process for regular employees, but since you're not really working here I've simplified a lot of it down for you."

"Okay," said Erik. "What's the second part?"

"You're going to be working in an office I've set for you." Azazel handed over a sleek black key card with Erik's ID on it. "Third floor, office number 27. It's a corner office with a great view of Manhattan. You'll be there for Quickies."

"Quickies?"

"A lot of people come by for quick cuddling sessions because they don't want to invite people over to their house, for private reasons. So they personally head to the source."

"So…they'll just be lining up outside my office and I just…cuddle…them one by one?"

"Pretty much," grinned Azazel.

This sounded like a nightmare. And incurable, far-gone insanity.

"…Fine. What else? Policies, rules…?"

"It's a pretty busy company, so you're going to be getting around twenty out-of-office cuddle requests every week. You're not allowed to refuse any of them unless you have proof of a valid excuse, or if you get hitched by a Regular. By Regulars, I mean a customer who requests for the same Snuggle Buddy on one of our Regular Plans."

Emma sipped her coffee elegantly, listening to Azazel's explanation. Erik had a feeling she was there to make sure Erik followed the rules properly and didn't shirk. Which was a little insulting, since Erik did say he was "a man of his words".

"As for absolute rules," Azazel continued. "There are just a few."

Erik nodded and picked up another butter biscuit.

"Since you're there as a job, you are absolutely forbidden to do anything beyond what is outlined on this pamphlet." He threw Erik a purple brochure. Erik looked at the big Times New Roman font and thought the criteria was easy enough. "All cuddles must be done with clothes on, shoes excepted. Another thing: you're not allowed to go out with any of your customers. That's the biggest rule this company has."

"Why?"

"You'll be mixing up work and private affairs for both yourself, your customer, and the company. This company offers purely platonic services; I don't want it to become a dating organization."

"Fair enough."

"And that's pretty much it," said Azazel, lounging back on his chair. "Questions?"

Erik shook his head, exhausted. Emma continued sipping her coffee.

"Right, then. Your job starts tomorrow at ten o'clock, and you'll get off at three. Wear something snuggly with warm colours. Black isn't a warm colour," he said as Erik opened his mouth. Azazel grinned his devilish grin. "Thanks again for coming to visit, my friends. Now, if you two will excuse me, Emma and Erik, I need to go back to work."

They all stood up and began walking towards the elevator, Azazel resting his hands on his friends' backs as he gently steered them. Erik stared numbly at the papers in his hand and rubbed his fingers over his tired eyes. He was going to have to ask Janos to fill in as temporary boss for his mechanic shop while he was away during the day.

As the elevator dinged and opened, he and Emma stepped inside and turned around to face the rowdy-faced Russian. "I'll see you tomorrow, Erik. Emma, take care of him."

She smiled sweetly. "I will."

Erik sighed again.

"You're only going to have bear with this for a month. It's not so bad. Someone like you could use some hugging."

"I've gotten on fine these twenty eight years."

"Only you seem to think so." Azazel patted him on the back and winked. "Anyway, don't be late."

 *

-Part 2: He's Such A Mule-

 ***

Charles walked into his study, exhausted from a full day at work marking papers and giving lectures. He also had to put up with the workplace politics; Charles' coworkers either bullied or flirted with him; there was no in between. Years of practice had allowed him to survive all their figurative kicks and kisses with prowess, maybe even returning some of his own, but it was still exhausting.

Today was an especially terrible day: Mrs. Rowan, a Graduate Program Assistant in his faculty, a very…  spherical… lady who quivered with irregular flesh and had chapped lips studded with dried flecks of skin that felt like the surface of a cactus, had attempted to kiss him  _again_ , and Dr. Tomlinson, a middle-aged wraith with mottled skin and a shiny cranium from premature hair loss, had "accidentally" spilled his boiling agar solution into Charles' office as he'd passed by, leaving the room smelling like old socks.

So when Charles saw Raven lounging in his chair with an earnest face, he turned around and walked right back out.

"Wait!"

"No, Raven, we are  _not_  talking about my love life. Again."

"Charles, please! You need to!"

"No. Don't you have a photoshoot or a runway show or something to do?"

"Today's my off day. You need help."

"No, I don't. I have papers to grade and peer reviews to go through. And I am exhausted. I have no time for this."

He was marching towards one of the dining rooms where there would be a table large enough for him to do his work on. Raven trailed closely behind him, flapping her arms in protest.

"Charles, you're only twenty six and you're already sounding like a cynical old man. You need to…to find a girlfriend. A boyfriend. Someone? Er…some _…thing?_ "

"Uh, thank you for that. For your information, I  _have_ had experience in the human passions department."

"One night stands don't mean anything."

"Anything besides a proper partner doesn't mean anything to you."

"Charles, I'm  _worried_ about you!"

At her genuinely desperate cry, Charles stopped, his heart softened. He turned to face her and noted the lines of unhappiness on her face, her eyes a little too bright. He smiled at her reassuringly and cupped her cheek.

"Raven, I'm really all right," he said softly.

"No you're not. Yes, you sleep with people, you're the biggest flirt I've met in my life. You pick up girls and boys left and right like they're flowers or something but you never contact them again and your loneliness is driving you crazy. I can see it. You get weird, Charles, and sometimes you look like you're about to cry and you do, when you think no one's around. But in front of people you're so cheerful. Charles, you're going to kill yourself some day."

Charles sighed. Some of it was true. He did feel quite lonely; he did yearn for someone to be with, to share something deep with. But he hadn't found anyone. He was also too afraid, because his last relationship, which also happened to be his first, didn't… go so well. At all. Now there was a gaping hole in his chest he couldn't fill, not even with three Ph.Ds and numerous prestigious academic awards and countless one night stands.

Okay, most of Raven's words were true. Most.

"I'm not going to kill myself any day, Raven. And I don't cry."

Raven frowned deeply, her eyes suddenly hard. " _Sure_. Whatever. I'm going to do something about it anyway." Then she stomped off and shut herself in her room.

Charles sighed and rubbed his temple.

***

 _Charles is such a mule_ , Raven thought furiously as she plopped into her swivelly chair and logged onto her Mac Pro 2013. He had bought her this three-grand worth computer that looked like a spaceship part from the future (which was part of why she'd wanted it, she admitted shamefully), and she was going to do whatever she could to return the favour.

She sat, staring at her blank Google page.

What does Charles really need?

An escort or a hooker wouldn't do anything beside repeat his pattern with one night stands, she mused as she browsed through Craigslist. A lot of the profiles looked sketchy and obviously photoshopped. She shivered at a man whose dick was larger than his steroid-pumped thighs. It looked like an evil tumour.

Dating sites, maybe? She hovered her cursor over the "create account" button, but thought better of it. It would be too impersonal since his sister created his account, and if Charles ever decided to meet any potential dates his profile matched up with, it would probably end with another one night stand.

Raven threw up her hands in frustration and screamed silently at her ceiling.

It was all Sebastian Shaw's fault.

 _Everything_ was Sebastian Shaw's fault.

Ever since Charles came home one day five years ago to find that his "Sebby" was fucking a girl, was only fucking him for money, and had only stayed with Charles for a fucking bet - a bet to see how long "Sebby" could go on fucking a man when "Sebby" was actually straight - Charles never again dated the same person more than once, let alone consider another relationship.

And her dear brother had truly, genuinely, desperately _, unconditionally_ loved Shaw.

She didn't even want to think about remembering what Charles had been reduced to in the months following.

Raven made a mental image of Shaw's face screaming in pain as she thrust three rusty kitchen knives into his face, stomach, and dick, imagining the explosion of blood, and felt a tiny a bit better.

Exhaling, she opened her eyes and looked back at her monitor. A sparkly ad on the sidebar caught her eye.

 _Snuggle Buddies_?

It was such a lame name, but she was intrigued enough to click on it. She didn't have any ideas at the moment so she could use some distraction.

Huh. It was…pretty cool, actually.  _"A Snuggle Buddy for when you need a Buddy and a Snuggle."_  It was absolutely terrible, too, but it was so terrible, it trapped her attention, and she couldn't help reading about its equally cheesy mission statement, background, employees, services, and finally, registration process.

She clicked " _Order_ _your Snuggle today_!"

A page asking for personal information including name, gender, age and address popped up the screen. She dutifully filled them in, and pressed the next page.

 _Please indicate which of the following you prefer_ :  _soft, thin, muscular or big?_ Muscular.

 _Sexy, familial, or platonic?_ Sexy. Definitely sexy.

 _Gender and age preferences?_  Male, probably, and preferably slightly older.

 _Conversation or silence?_  Conversation. No duh. Raven couldn't imagine Charles being quiet with any stranger.

 _Which position do you favour?_  Raven looked closely at all the offered Snuggleposes, and decided that Charles was in need of variety. She selected  _All._

 _Please type in any other relevant keywords to what you would like in your experience, and click submit to view potential candidates_.

Raven obeyed, typing in  _awkward, kind, curious, intelligent_ and  _ridiculously gorgeous_  - for the heck of it, because Charles liked eye candy as much as she did - and waited for the page to load.

_Searching for your right buddy…_

The screen flashed blue and a list of profile pictures and mini bios lined vertically down the screen. The pictures were really nice and she flushed a little at the sheer number of cushiony pectorals and bulging crotches staring back at her.  _Oooooooh_. Charles might like any one of them. But…

There was one Snuggle Buddy that seemed to be a feature item, listed separately on the right above all the others.  _Featured Snuggler and Magneto of the Month!_ screamed his bio title. He was differentiated from the others by a glowing yellow line around his profile picture.

An  _illegally_  hot, stern-faced, mysterious-looking German mechanic posed with abs that looked like genuine Italian ciabatta dinner rolls packed into the middle of sausage-shiny torso.

Erik Lehnsherr.

Absolutely  _delectable._

He was apparently being promoted by the company and an extremely enthusiastic bio writer, and his Snuggles had a discount from the regular Snuggle price for a limited time of one month.

This creature, thought Raven as she ravaged the photo with her eyes, was a godsend. Even if the cuddle service didn't convince Charles to think about another relationship, a night being fucked by this Greek god of supernatural hotness - a very probable possibility given Charles and his obsession for one-night-stands - would still do him an enormous amount of good.

Smirking and extremely pleased with her self, Raven chose Erik Lehnsherr and set about filling in the rest of the form.

***

Today was an even worse day. Mrs. Rowan had succeeded in brushing her lips on his cheek, giving him scratch marks, and had screamed her triumph for half the campus to hear but  _he_  had gotten a warning slip for "sexual misconduct". A female student from his class had confessed to him, and he had tactfully turned it down, but not without making her cry anyway. A cute grad student under Dr. Brink's wing had flirted with him, and he had playfully flirted back, but the boy's  _fiancee_  had turned up and thrown a fit in front of Charles' entire lecture.

So Charles felt he should have been given some sort of award for standing his ground and not walking back out when he saw Raven sitting in his chair with that face, again.

He sighed and waited for her to start.

"Charles," she stated, all business-like, "I've signed you up for something and you're not going to say no."

"No."

She continued as if she hadn't heard him. "It's a thing called Snuggle Buddies and I ordered a two week package for you. Every Tuesday and Thursday starting next week from three to five in the afternoon, a Snuggle Buddy is going to come and cuddle you for two hours. Four sessions in total."

"What."

"Here's the terms and conditions and you need to sign this sheet. I'll be a good sister and drop these off at their headquarters downtown when I head for my Chanel photoshoot tomorrow." She handed him two pieces of paper.

He looked at her, down at the papers, and up at her again. "Raven, that sounds absolutely ridiculous."

"It isn't. I promise you. I got you a great Snuggle Buddy and you're  _going_  to agree to this."

"What's my incentive?"

"Well…" she chewed her lips as she thought. "You'd definitely say yes if I showed you the picture of your Snuggle Buddy but that'd ruin the surprise, so… not that.  _Oh_. I got it. You're not going to hear anything about your social love life again from me for the next six months."

Silence from Raven about his love life? Extremely tempting.

"One year."

"No. Six months. Besides, what have you got to lose? You might even score another one-night-stand. Trust me, this one isn't one you'll want to miss." Raven had a mischievous and dangerously lusty look in her eyes that Charles decided he didn't like.

Charles grunted, resigned. "All right."

"Aw yes!" she whooped and gave him a hug. "You won't regret it, trust me!"

After Charles signed the papers and watched her skip off to her room, he had an odd feeling of premonition in his limbs, but he waved it off as groundless superstition and returned to his academic duties.

A little bit of cuddling distraction - and potential one-night-stand, according to Raven - on the side couldn't hurt.

And if this "cuddle buddy" were really as great as Raven said so...well. 

That wasn't something he'd mind at all.

*

-Part 3: Shyly, Cutely, Britishly-

*** 

"You're not wearing that."

"Oh my god. Does it even matter with someone like me?" Erik forced a grin, all teeth and no mirth, which he knew was even scarier and more cringe-worthy than his  _genuine_ grin.

"Don't smile like that. I just ate."

Erik frowned.

"That's better."

"You're the one who told me I needed to smile more."

"Smile  _nicely._ " Emma, his self-appointed stylist, rummaged around his closet for appropriate Snugglewear. Most of his wardrobe consisted of black sweaters, black turtlenecks, black t-shirts, and finally, black suits and pants. Oh yes, and black underwear. Poor Emma looked nauseous. "Don't you ever go shopping?"

"I have clothes, so obviously, yes."

Emma rolled her eyes. "No, sugar. There's nothing but black in here. What are you, Batman?"

"Excuse you." He felt insulted. "I don't mope."

"Sure, hun."

"You're not looking in the right place," he said, ignoring her. "I do have colour. Look." He stuck his hand into the formless black fabric monster sprawled across the floor of his room, and held up a wrinkly dark grey t-shirt triumphantly. "This one's not black."

Emma stared at him in disbelief, looking at him as if he had sprouted a toe on his forehead.

"You need help, Erik."

"Whatever, Emma." He sighed with exasperation. "Can we just…  _go_?"

***

"You're not wearing that."

"Told you so."

Erik glared at them both.

"I didn't have anything else," he seethed. "Besides, what's wrong with a black turtleneck? It's warm."

"You look like a hit man," Azazel sighed, shaking his head, as though Erik were a stubborn teenage boy going through a Goth phase. "I can't have my customers snuggling with a hit man. Pearce?" Azazel pressed the telecom button beside the door in Erik's new office and spoke into the tiny speaker above it. "Could you deliver the Snugglator up to office 27 on floor three? Uh-huh. Yes. No, it's all right. We already have the recipe." He hung up.

"The 'Snugglator'?" Erik swore the names got worse and worse.

"It's part of the Snugglewear Collection we're designing with cutting edge snuggle-able fabric technology," Azazel explained seriously. "It's going to become a part of our services. We haven't released any of it yet, so you're getting a prototype. The Snugglator is our best one. The marshmallow topping on your hot chocolate." Azazel and Emma shared a grin, and Erik felt a little hurt that they'd left him out.

Not that he was ever going to admit that, of course.

"Sounds terrible," he muttered bitterly.

Emma smacked him. " _Rude_. Do you know how many people are on the waitlist to become a Snuggler?"

"No. Don’t care."

"Five hundred and thirty six _._ And counting."

Erik's jaw popped open.

"So consider yourself lucky."

Erik sighed.

"Ah, here it is. Thank you Pearce." The Snuggle Boss took a very large, lumpy maroon sweater from a wispy young man who looked like he was made of tissue paper. Azazel patted tissue-man very carefully on his back as tissue-man floated weakly back out of the office. "Take off that eyesore and wear this, Mr. Grump," he commanded Erik. "You still have ten minutes before your office opens."

"This is  _ridiculous_ ," Erik spat out, struggling to get his turtleneck off. As he reached for the Snugglator there was a sudden flash and click from Emma's frost white Galaxy S5. Its camera dot eyed him appraisingly. Too annoyed to care, he pulled the Snugglator on…and…uh…

What the  _hell_?

Erik's eyes widened. The sweater felt  _incredible._

"What is this…?" he whispered, going completely still. Erik felt like he was lying naked under a preheated blanket filled with world-class goose down. He was almost afraid to move in case the sensation went away. It felt so  _good,_ Erik almost smiled.

 _Almost_. Fortunately, he succeeded in maintaining his tough-guy image.

Azazel guffawed. "Sorry pal, it's a trade secret. Feels great, yeah? It's designed to enhance someone's snugglebility."

"Is that even a word?" Erik whispered to Emma.

She shrugged. "Shakespeare made up words too."

Azazel looked down at his gold Rolex and beckoned Emma to stand up. "I believe it's time for Erik to start work. We don't want to  _impose_  on his precious time."

"You two haven't done anything else since  _checkers_." He glared at them violently.

"You're welcome."

With a sinking heart, Erik watched them step out before he remembered something else. "Uh, wait."

They looked back at him expectantly.

"Are there some kind of opening formalities to a session? Etiquette requirements?"

"Nope. Some of them might just run right up to you, some of them want you to make the first move. It'll be pretty obvious even to a social groundhog like you. If they have special requests it'll be written on that monitor --" The Snuggle Boss pointed at an 18-inch flat touchscreen embedded into the wall beside the door - "along with their personal info."

"Um. Ok." Erik felt overwhelmed. This was a bit much for a company that sold…  _snuggles._

"Don't worry so much. Just smile -  _genuinely,_ Erik, I don't want crying customers - and hug them. It's not so hard." Azazel gave him an encouraging smile. "I'll see you after three. Maybe."

"Toodle-loo," quipped Emma. They shared a weird knowing look with each other that didn't sit well with Erik, but before he could ask they walked out.

The door closed.

There was one minute left.

Erik felt like crying again.

At least the sweater was easing some of his anxiety, though. Nothing felt better than being naked under goose down blankets.

***

Erik Lehnsherr cried silently on the Snuggle Sofa in his temporarily closed office during lunch break on his second day at work.

Erik Lehnsherr, Featured Snuggler and Magneto of the Month, had a  _line-up_  outside his door that wound all the away around the third floor and slightly into the second through the emergency stairway.

A  _line-up_.

A line-up of two or three wasn't unheard of at Snuggle Buddies, but  _fifty_ _two_  patiently waiting Snugglees of all ages and sizes, most of them loud teenage girls or lonely unstable mothers, stood outside his office door with rapt faces and thudding hearts that pulsed throughout the entire building like a human stampede at the mall on Black Friday.

And that was  _up_  from yesterday, when his peak hour had held a total of forty five waitlisted Snugglees.

Poor Erik wondered about the meaning of life.

It was a nightmare fished out from the tenth circle of Hell.

Somehow, no one was scared of his sharky grin. No one was turned away by the sharpness of his bones or the awkwardness of his embraces or even the mercenary glare that had become a permanent part of his face. In fact, they actually became more attracted to him when he tried pulling his usual people-repellant expressions and gestures in a vain effort to cut the sessions short. One Mrs. Rowan - Erik shuddered at the thought of that atrocious creature - had even thrown a fit when her five minutes were up.

 _No dating!_ and  _Be platonic!_ Azazel and Emma kept weirdly telling him whenever they visited him. Erik guessed that it was probably some huge company policy that lots of employees broke and caused the company lots of damage, but it really wasn't a hard promise to keep at all. The job was a nightmare and the customers were even worse. They just kept  _coming at him_.

Had Azazel drugged his sweater with people-attractant?

Nope. Erik had tested that hypothesis. For one hour yesterday he had experimentally switched back to his black turtleneck, but he didn't even make a dent in the flow of incoming customers. This revelation ruined his temper considerably, especially when he also realized, in despair, that he could never go back to wearing anything beside his Snugglator again.

He was going to  _kill_  Azazel and Emma for doing this to him.

Oh, and he hadn't even mentioned the out-of-office Snuggle requests - called  _Outties_ , apparently - that he had to confirm and do. There were three yesterday, including a lonely middle-aged man in a smelly apartment and a rebellious fourteen-year-old in a crowded townhouse with very angry Italian parents. He had to do another four this morning, between his endless Quickies, and it was still only lunch time.

As Erik worked years off his life remembering the horrors, his cellphone buzzed, signaling the arrival of another Outtie request. Swallowing, he unlocked the screen to view the message.

_Charles Francis Xavier. 26. Male. 2238 Genosha Street. Regular Plan: 3pm - 5pm Tuesdays and Thursdays. Confirm?_

Oooh. This one actually sounded bearable. Someone male and around his own age,  _finally._

Also, Genosha was a  _very_  nice part of New York, so he didn't need to worry about hygiene dangers or street thugs like the last two Outties he'd done this morning. And two hours with just one Snugglee? That sounded like heaven, compared to the last two hundred Snugglees per ten hours he'd had to deal with.

 _Confirm_.

A box with the name  _C. F. Xavier_  slid into the  _Outties_  sidebar on the flat screen as a scheduled reminder.

The clock struck 1:15pm at that moment, and the profile of his next Quickie customer popped onto the screen.  _Skyler Thacmis. 20. Female._ Erik sighed for the hundredth time that day and headed over to open his office door, bracing himself for whatever flood the kind Almighty had planned for him next.

As a Skyler tackled him onto the Snuggle Sofa with deafening screams and bruising grips, Erik couldn't believe that it was only his second day at work.

***

Erik felt a little scared looking up at the  _thing_  on 2238 Genosha Street. Westchester Mansion looked more like a domesticated version of Hogwarts than a real place a real person lived in.

What was a filthy rich person doing calling for something as stupid as a Snuggle Buddy? Erik seriously wondered. With a "house" like that, this Charles person could probably have anyone he wanted with a wink and a drink. Unless, of course, there was something seriously unfortunate about him, like a severe physical or psychological defect. Or maybe he was a serial killer.

With trembling hands, Erik tapped the brass door knockers and waited for his doom.

Within a few minutes, he heard soft puttering footsteps on the other side and the clicks of locks being released. The doors opened, and Erik suddenly found himself unable to breathe.

An  _outrageously_ cute, boyish face with a pair of  _ridiculously_  huge blue eyes stared up at him.

"Uh," Erik said very intelligently.

The blue eyes blinked and the cherry red lips beneath parted. "Hello? I'm Charles Xavier," the man smiled shyly, cutely, Britishly.

"Oh. Yes, hello." He snapped back to reality. "I'm Erik Lehnsherr, your Snuggle Buddy."

 _Oh my god._ He felt traumatically idiotic saying that. Erik managed to maintain his stoic expression, but inside, his pride was bombed into smithereens and was beyond any hope of recovery.

What had Azazel called him again? Oh yes.

_A social groundhog._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still playing around with ao3 (not exactly a regular, wise user). I haven't decided if I should continue updating within a single chapter section, or have multiple sections in multiple chapters, or... I previously deleted two chapters (and lost a bunch of beautiful, wonderful comments in the process, fuck me, I didn't know) and consolidated them into this single chapter because I thought it would flow better, but which way do people prefer to read? It updates kind of weirdly now, too.
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think, about the fic, your thoughts, criticisms, etc. I'm open to anything; how else would I learn?
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


	2. Non-Sexual Things Like Chess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chess? Oh we all know what THAT means

Erik waited, heart-thudding, wondering if his utter lack of social skills would turn this customer away.

It was the first time he cared. It would also be the first time his people-repellant skill _worked_ since becoming a Snuggle Buddy. Ironically, at a time when he least needed it to.

"Oh!" exclaimed the man delightfully. A wide smile lit up his face that nearly blinded the poor mechanic. Charles seemed to be blushing slightly, Erik noted with a strange twitch of his heart. "Yes, please do come in. Would you like some tea, or coffee?"

"Coffee would be great." Erik stepped in and immediately boggled at the _moneyness_ around him. The interior was as grand as the building's exterior, if not more so. Intricately carved mahogany, gilded gold linings, and classical artworks that historians would probably swim the Pacific Ocean for comprised a majority of Westchester Mansion's innards.

His awkwardness was also not helped by the fact that he had no idea what to do for this cuddle session, this Outtie. As he sat on the dark velvet sofa in the sitting room, watching Charles puttering about in the adjacent kitchen, Erik realized he hadn't had any sessions that had started off like this, at all. Most of his customers pretty much just launched themselves at him like hungry lions, or they stood shyly for him to go over and initiate contact. Both situations were easy to read.

But not this one. How does one begin to cuddle a complete stranger who wasn’t treating you like a Snuggle Buddy? It had been six minutes into this Outtie already and he still hadn't touched a single hair on Charles. Erik felt like a bad Snuggler, and some part of his brain that was responsible for self-denial wondered why he cared.

Charles walked over and set two cups on the table, along with a box of sugar cookies. He sat on an opposing couch. "Help yourself, Erik."

"Thank you."

"So, Erik," said Charles, staring at him with a lazy smile. "I confess I've never done this before. How should we begin?"

God Almighty. Erik couldn't stop getting lost in the sheer _blueness_ of this man's eyes. It was _criminally offensive_ how big and blue they were. Everything about this Charles Francis Xavier was giving him muscle weakness and heart stutters and butterflies and generally launching his entire nervous system into an electrical warzone. He wanted to run away and explode and cry but he also felt _so good_ at the same time. It was quite alarming. Perhaps he was finally losing his wits from working so long for Azazel's idea from Hell.

Then the blueness blinked. Belatedly, Erik realized he'd been asked a question, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what it was.

"I prefer instant sugar," he blurted stupidly.

Charles' brows shot up in brief surprise before the cherry lips slid up into a shy but sly grin. "Mm. So do I."

 _Eh?_ Erik wondered why his preference for coffee condiments would trigger such an expression, but his brain shut down when Charles stood up and sauntered over with the same grin. He scooted a bit to make room as Charles plopped his - very nicely shaped - buns down right next to his own. As he did so, Charles accidentally brushed a bare hand against the Snugglator, and at the touch, his big blue eyes grew even bigger, if that were possible.

" _Oh_ …this is a _very_ nice material," Charles breathed, pawing softly at the sweater in awe.

Images of kittens playing with yarn balls flashed through Erik's mind and he successfully fought back the urge to pet the man's head. "It's a prototype for the company's new uniforms," he explained. "It's made to enhance one's…uh…snugglebility." Erik decided that he was going to go home today and cremate the remains of his pride.

Charles actually _giggled_. "Well, you certainly are very snuggly."

"I try to be," Erik said, and then internally groaned. Emma would have a field day with that remark.

"Then, um…" Charles looked suddenly bashful. "Do you mind if I…?" He gestured at Erik's sweater.

Erik shook his head, and held his breath as Charles pushed up against him. The young man began burrowing into the sweater like a chipmunk, apparently having completely fallen under the Snugglator's snugglebility. The big blue eyes fluttered with indescribable pleasure as the warm downy softness enveloped his body, the small man becoming more and more buried under waves of maroon fabric until only the white tips of his fingers and the top of his head peeked out at Erik. Charles' cheeks were flushed.

"This is terribly comfortable," came Charles' muffled voice. "How do you manage to wear this all day without falling asleep?"

"You get used to it," Erik replied stoically.

"Oh dear. I couldn't."

Erik placed his arms gently around the smaller man. It was getting _hard_ to think. Charles was curled up next to him like a newborn kitten and it was all Erik could do not to slip his hands a little lower and see if those buns were really as firm as they looked.

 _Be platonic,_ Azazel's voice echoed in his mind. _Platonic._

He thanked God that the Snugglator was thick enough to muffle his thundering heartbeats from Charles' ears.

They lay like that for several minutes, with Charles pressed up and wrapped up in Erik's arms and sweater, a needy little puppy in need of a snuggy. Charles smelled really nice. He was so gentle, so soft. His floppy chocolate hair smelled really nice too. It was such a welcome change from the boulder-crushing assaults that Erik usually got, that he momentarily thought he wouldn't mind being a full-time Snuggler if all of his sessions were like this. And every once in a while from the corner of Erik's eyes, he could see Charles glance up at him, the bewitching blueness resetting the speed of Erik's heart to a suffocating rate of about 200 bps.

He hoped it would never end.

"Do you do this full-time?" asked Charles, cocooned in Erik's embrace. He looked like a delicious burrito wrapped up in a red tortilla just waiting to be eaten.

_Platonic._

"No. This is just a…a part time job. I'm a mechanic."

"I see. Lots of physical labour?"

"None that I can't handle."

"I _see_ ," said Charles dreamily, teasing a hand down Erik's abdomen.

_Platonic platonic platonic--_

"And what do you do?" Erik managed.

"I'm a professor of genetics at Cornell," Charles replied. "Crossing-over, mutations, _penetrance_ …" Charles' eyes turned smoky as his adventurous fingers dipped right down into the land of Snuggle Buddy policy doom.

" _Platonic_ ," he choked out without thinking, and then froze.

Charles pulled back his hand as though he'd been scorched. Flushing, Charles tried to worm his way out of the Snugglator.

"Oh dear," he stumbled. "I'm so, so sorry. I…"

"C-company policies you see. I'm only allowed to offer platonic services," Erik blurted, trying to explain his outburst, and being dismally, dismally certain he'd just made things worse.

Charles looked absolutely devastated.

Erik panicked. The thought of being responsible for upsetting this puppy pierced the tough mechanic's heart and he felt awful seeing those bright blue eyes dimmed. But being a complete doof at social etiquette, Erik had no clue what to do and so had to settle for patting the young professor awkwardly on the back. He glanced at the grandfather clock in the room and saw that he still had an hour left with his Snugglee, whose spirits didn't seem like they'd lift anytime soon.

In a valiant effort to be a genuine Snuggle Buddy, Erik placed his arms around Charles and cautiously pulled the sad puppy closer, and waited.

After several moments of excruciating silence, the puppy sighed and finally relaxed, burrowing into the Snugglator again. Erik's relief bloomed through his limbs. He began rubbing gentle circles on the puppy's back, making the puppy burrow deeper.

They stayed like that for the next hour, occasionally talking about non-sexual things like chess, but mostly in a somewhat comfortable silence.

***

The doors closed.

Charles slid onto the floor and became a slightly overwhelmed puddle.

Holy _shit_.

Erik Lehnsherr was… _Erik Lehnsherr wa_ s…

" _The goddamn hottest piece of godliness ever_ , _right_?!" chirped Raven excitedly, as she skipped down to the foyer from her room, where she had been hiding and spying the entire afternoon. She kneeled down and began mopping the puddle up.

"Mmuuughhhh," moaned Charles.

" _Told_ you so."

"Go away."

"You're _welcome_. Now give me some deets. Deets _._ "

Charles sighed, his face burning in his hands from shame, embarrassment, excitement, frustration and a vat load of other emotions that were making his penis very, very confused. "I've made an utter fool of myself," he mumbled.

"You always do, Charles. Be more specific."

He glared at her through his fingers. When she continued staring demandingly at him, he sighed again and curled up on himself. "I may have misread the situation."

Raven patiently waited.

"I… I may have been too forward with my actions." The heat that his cheeks were giving off should have burned a hole in the ground by now.

"You mean he doesn't want to sleep with you?"

"Oh my _god_ , Raven. That's not what I meant." That was exactly what he meant.

"Uh-huh. This is, like, the first time you've failed to seduce someone, right? Geez, what's that even _like_?" Raven asked very helpfully.

As Charles squirmed and moaned into the ground, the worst moments of the last couple hours flashed in his mind like a horror movie. When Erik Lehnsherr the Snuggle Buddy had shown up at his doorstep in his strangely lumpy maroon sweater that did nothing to hide the shape of Erik's lean, muscular body, his mysterious and stern green eyes showering Charles' nerves with giddiness, the flirty professor knew right then and there that he _had_ to have the sexy mechanic. Had to. No question. And the way sexy mechanic had been looking at flirty professor, flirty professor had been sure the feeling was mutual.

"I think I'm losing my touch," Charles whispered in horror.

Raven rolled her eyes.

But sexy mechanic had said the whole thing was 'platonic'. _Platonic_. The word rang tauntingly in his ears. _Flirty_ professor did not do _platonic_ , and Charles suddenly realized with painful clarity that having been either bullied or hit on in all of his social contacts for most of his life, he didn't really know how to _platonic_ at all. Charles remembered weakly attempting another flirtatious gesture right before Erik had left - Charles had licked his lips very slowly and turned his puppy eyes on maximum cuteness power, pathetically hoping that Erik might be persuaded otherwise - but it had failed miserably.

_"Thank you for choosing Snuggle Buddies. I enjoyed our session together and I hope you did as well."_

Erik hadn't even _noticed_.

Charles moaned again.

"Oh for heaven's _sake_ , Charles, there are millions of people out there who can't even pick up a pig, let alone a human. Pull yourself together. It's not the end of the world. You have another session in two days, right?"

 _"I'll see you again on Thursday, Charles._ "

It was the only sparkle in his mountain of poop. It meant that Erik was willing to have a next time with him, and that Charles hadn't fucked up completely.

"…Yeah," Charles said quietly, a little calmer now. Raven was right. It was no use moaning over what was already past. He just had to do a bit of research on Human Platonic Behaviour before Thursday.

Maybe a bit of fantasizing about Erik Lehnsherr's hotness wouldn't hurt, either.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of people were anticipating frickle frackling, right?
> 
> Sorry
> 
> (it'll come. In time)


	3. This Could Backfire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are set up for future plot pushing, and some interesting conversations occur.

"You said what?!" exclaimed both Emma and Azazel. Janos simply looked at him incredulously over his pizza.

"Er, 'platonic'?"

They all stared at him like he'd grown two toes on his forehead.

"What?" Erik said defensively. "I didn't do anything wrong."

 _"Snuggles,_ Erik, not _sniffles!"_ Azazel yelled. His wine glass quivered.

Erik started. It was the first time Erik saw his amicable friend truly angry, and he felt just slightly alarmed by the big Russian's tense stance. Emma was simply shaking her head, but he felt a subtle air of icy danger around her, too. Erik was confused. He didn't know what he'd done wrong to deserve such treatment. 

"I don’t understand," he said.

"Erik," said Azazel slowly, "you do not simply blurt 'platonic' to a Snugglee who was looking for love."

"You were the one who kept telling me to 'be platonic'!"

"Yes that's right,but haven't you ever heard of 'tact'?" Azazel smacked him with a napkin. "You could have told him, 'I'm sorry, but I'd like to cuddle you more' or 'Shhh, sweetheart, this isn't what you need right now'."

"Mr. Platonic," Emma muttered.

Erik fumed into his spaghetti, stabbing the noodles with his fork. He did feel bad. Really bad. He couldn't replay his session with Charles without cringing or internally crying, or turning into a messy puddle whenever that slow lick of a wet, pink tongue rolling across rosy red lips appeared in his head, but unfortunately that was exactly what his stupid brain preferred to do for the past twenty eight hours since leaving Westchester Mansion. Those blue eyes haunted his every thought, gave him such pain, and yet he couldn't wait to see them again.

For some odd reason.

"That little blunder will cost you this dinner," said Azazel, wiping his mouth.

"I'm sorry?"

Emma and Janos looked expectantly at him while Azazel neatly folded his napkin and placed it to the side.

Erik shook his head. "My blunder? I didn't lose you a customer. He didn't cancel."

"Erik," said Azazel with utmost solemnity, "my company prides itself in its world class customer service."

"I don't even work here!"

"Uh, technically, you do, right now," said Janos.

Erik glared at him.

"And you've done excellently so far," said Azazel. "You've brought in 19% of the profits in our last two days alone with the stupefying number of customers you attract." The Russian nodded respectfully with a suppressed smile and Erik pulled a face, thinking Azazel was mocking him.

"Excuse me. I realize I'm not exactly the most snuggle-able type, but you don't have to rub it in my face."

Emma choked and Azazel began to guffaw. Janos laughed silently in his corner. Erik thought they were being extremely rude and felt a bit offended.

"I agreed to my side of the bet, but being mocked was not part of the deal." He stood up to leave, sulking.

"Ah no! Wait, Erik," Azazel breathed and pawed at him to sit down, having finally gotten hold of his laughter. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, just listen to us."

Erik waited with a stony expression.

"We never told you, but we gave you a little… promotion on our website. Just a small promotion. Small. It would explain why you're getting the flood that you are--"

"You did what." Erik looked stricken.

"Well, we had to utilize your looks and charm," Emma said flatly.

"Looks and charm?"

"Look," she said, pulling out her phone. She played with it for a few moments and flipped the screen for Erik to see. A rather revealing photo of his half-naked self - taken, Erik realized, when he had been changing into the Snugglator on the first day of work - hovered conspicuously on the Snuggle Buddies web page, and had a hit number of six digits. Erik balked.

"Shit, dude, you are so dense," quipped Janos. When Erik continued to balk, Janos looked genuinely surprised. "Wait. You actually don't _know?"_

Erik looked at them bleakly.

"That you're actually an extremely hot and sexy boner fodder for man-lovers around the globe?" said Emma with a mischievous smirk. "Why do you think I dated you?"

His friends, Erik thought, were so weird.

"Anyway, dinner's still on you."

"With the profits I'm getting you, shouldn't you be treating me instead?" said Erik, exhausted.

Azazel grinned, enjoying himself a little too much, in Erik's opinion. "No can do, mate. Either treat us, or receive an even higher promotion on that website. You had a line-up of about forty five on Monday, right? Fifty two yesterday? And today was, what, sixty seven? Tomorr--"

"All right, I'll pay, I'll pay…"

Erik got up grudgingly, mumbling unintelligible curses under his breath. This had been a horrible week and it seemed the gods were adamant to continue his misery.

***

Janos, Emma and Azazel watched him slink over to the service counter.

"Do you think we're taking it too far?" asked Emma thoughtfully.

"No, I think it's hilarious."

"I'm serious, Quested. This could backfire."

"Emma, relax," drawled Azazel, settling back with his wine. "Getting him into Snuggle Buddies is the best thing we've done for him yet. He won't be able to stop thinking about that customer. He's probably still thinking about him. He _is_ still thinking about him. Look at his face over there. _Christ."_

"I wish I was there during his session. Oh man."

"What did he say was the customer's name again?"

"Charles… Saviour, I believe?" Emma answered, frowning. "He sounds familiar."

" 'Saviour'? Dude, that's perfect."

Azazel finished his vodka and grinned. "Mr. Platonic definitely needs one."

***

Raven sat in a posh modern cafeteria eating a quinoa salad spritzed with lemon and sprinkled with pomegranate seeds. A strawberry frappuccino stood to the side. She hummed in pleasure, taking another bite of lettuce. Hank McCoy, the part-time set technician, and Darwin, her fellow supermodel, sat on either side of her, eating their own meals. It was lunch break.

"You're bouncy today."

"I am," she chirped. She sipped her frappuccino.

"Are you going to tell us or do we need to take your food away?"

Raven pulled her lunch closer to herself before smiling mysteriously and clearing her throat. "I," she began dramatically, "may have succeeded in getting my brother to actually date again. May have. I don't know yet, but it looks hopeful."

"What did you do?" Darwin asked, intrigued. She had been moaning about her brother's chronic, irresponsible promiscuity since forever. After some kind of break up of "nuclear proportions" - as she had told them - Raven hadn't stopped coming up with new schemes to open up her brother's emotional availability again. And she hadn't ever succeeded. Until maybe now.

"It sounds kind of stupid," she said, "but I got him a really, really hot cuddle buddy who comes twice a week and sexually frustrates the hell out of Charles because, apparently, the whole idea is strictly platonic. Did you even know there are companies out there that sells cuddles?"

Hank and Darwin both stared at her. "I… don't really see how 'dating' is going to come in?" Hank asked timidly.

"Well, Charles can't stop thinking about his cuddle buddy. It's the first time he's been so worked up over one person for more than a day. It's a hopeful start. Oh, hey Alex."

"Hey." Alex Summers walked over and sat down next to Darwin, looking exhausted. He popped open a water bottle and took a long draw. "Man, I swear the clothes get weirder and weirder every year. Money's good, though, can't complain too much.

"What'd they put you in this time?"

"Some kind of adult bib-thing."

Hank snorted and Alex shot him a glare. "Shut up, bozo. At least I'm good at what I do."

"Whoa, hey--"

 _"Anyway,"_ Darwin cut in. "Raven, what were you saying about the cuddle buddy?"

"Right. Erik Lehnsherr. German mechanic. _So._ Fricking. _Hot._ I wish I knew more about him…"

Hank fidgeted with his ham sandwich. He looked mildly uncomfortable and Darwin felt a little sorry for him. They'd all been friends since high school, and everyone except Raven knew that Hank had the biggest crush on Raven. It was sad. Even Alex looked sympathetic.

"Cuddle buddy?" asked Alex, furrowing his brows in thought. "I have a friend who works for a cuddle buddy company. Think it was called…'Snuggly Buds' or something?"

" 'Snuggle Buddies'!" Raven exclaimed, pointing. "That's the one!"

"Awesome," said Alex, smiling, pulling out his phone. He typed something into the phone and sent off a text. "Angel's the security systems manager over there. Maybe she'll have something on its employees."

Raven's eyes bulged from this new potential source of make-Charles-date material. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Can she get his schedule? Number? Address?"

"Um. Isn't there an employee privacy thing?" asked Hank nervously.

Alex shrugged. "Probably. But it's worth a try, and she probably wouldn't mind if it's a friend--"

"Oh my god I love you Alex--" she launched herself at him and they fell to the ground, him protesting and her laughing.

Darwin turned quietly to Hank. "As you can see, the way to Raven's heart is Charles," he whispered.

Hank turned scarlet.

***

Several hundred miles away, Charles sat in his office, moving the rice of his Teriyaki-Chicken Combo aimlessly about its foam container, drowning the white maggots in a thick, brown, salty death. As he had done with his self-esteem. He couldn't even care that his colleague and good friend, Moira MacTaggart, had come from her office all the way from the Criminology building on the other side of the campus bearing his favourite Japanese take-out.

"You're bouncy today."

"I _am_ ," Charles moaned, and laid his head down on his papers. "I'm terribly sorry."

"Are you going to tell me, or do I need to call Mrs. Rowan?"

Charles sat straight up and smoothed down his cardigan. "No, no, there's no need for that. I… uh… I just made a bit of fool of myself. In front of someone. That I may or may not have… wanted." He cleared his throat.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Yes… and uh…" he stuttered, "well, I may have been a little… aggressive about it. A little."

Moira scrutinized him, making him squirm and fidget and send more white maggots to their mushy deaths, before sighing and looking away. "Didn't I always say your playboy tendencies would get you into trouble one day?"

Charles blushed. Yes, she certainly had always been the voice of reason that he never paid attention to. "In my defense, half of them come to me, and I can't say no when I don't see any harm in agreeing." Well, in truth, they only come to him after he leaves many not-very-subtle 'come hither' signs in his wake, but he wasn't ever going to tell Moira that.

"Uh-huh. So what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know." He struggled. "I've never been…turned down before."

There was a long silence.

"Amazing. I don't know whether to give you my sympathies or throw my lunch at you."

"Why? What's he done?" Logan Howlett, the big buff professor of organic chemistry that all the girls in the school swooned over, poked his head into the doorway.

"Charles here is just telling me how he's never been rejected his whole life."

"That's not true," Charles sputtered indignantly. "I've--"

"That's because Charles is someone you _wouldn't_ want to reject. _I'd_ know." Logan winked suggestively, before leaving and whistling "Hanky Panky" by Tommy James and the Shondells as he strolled away down the hall. Charles burned.

Moira stared at him with her mouth open, and for a moment Charles severely regretted coming to work today.

 _"Him,_ Charles?! _Really?_  Just -- exactly _how_ many of the life sciences staff have you--?!"

Charles laid his head back down onto his papers. He really couldn't deal with this at the moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the encouragements!!! 
> 
> To make up for this boring one, next chapter's gonna either win you or kill you (though I suspect it'll be the latter)


	4. Definitely, Definitely Not

Charles yawned and looked up at the clock on top of his shelf.

2:26 pm.

He groaned and rubbed his eyes. Thirty four minutes until he could see Erik Lehnsherr again. Thirty four minutes until he probably definitely would not try seducing that _specimen_ of a human being again. Definitely not.

Charles looked down and tried to focus on the piles of midterms waiting to be marked on his desk. Four packages sat in the "finished" pile, two hundred and forty three in the other. His one TA, a Mr. Sean Cassidy, had somehow managed to break both arms from jumping out of a window in a drunken fantasy in which he possessed "sonic screams" - how that and flying were linked remained a mystery to Charles - and thus Charles was deprived of one very necessary helping hand. Or two.

He was trying to decide whether to give them all perfects or zeroes, because, for some very odd reason, all of his students this semester had penmanship that was unspeakably atrocious and a crippling battle to read. The very odd reason definitely did not have anything to do with his mind being constantly distracted by mental images of one Erik Lehnsherr and that rather enormous package he'd felt down _there_ before being platonicked-out. Definitely, definitely not.

Rolling a silver fountain pen between his lips, Charles wondered what Erik's writing looked like. Probably very elegant and European, like Erik himself. Those long, beautiful fingers and the achingly proportional hand to which they belonged couldn't possibly produce anything that wasn't charming or… _pleasurable._

Oh dear. Charles shook his head. He knew he was a bit of a pervert, but it was usually after a couple of drinks in the presence of at least one attractive member of the same species. He never really thought so much about sex when he was alone.

Until Erik "Platonic" Lehnsherr, the first human to ever reject Charles' charms.

Was Charles was losing his touch?

Fully aware of not having marked a single question since the last time he checked the clock, Charles glanced up again.

2:26 pm.

He moaned and banged his head on his desk. This was _excruciating_ and _absolute torture_ and he _really did not have time for this--_

Time?

No, he was quite certain more than a minute had passed since zoning out and chewing his fountain pen. Confused, Charles opened up his Surface Pro just to make sure and saw that--

_Shit._

_That clock was broken._

It was 2:57 pm.

It took at least fifteen minutes to commute.

***

Erik cleared his throat, straightened his lumpy navy blue Snugglator (Azazel had procured another one for him with a different colour this time - "need to look your freshest best for a date, Lehnsherr" - and had earned a shoe in the face in the process) the best he could, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door.

He'd been looking forward to this all day long. Thursday had been an even busier day than usual, with about seventy three crazed Snugglees waitlisted during his peak hour, and Erik felt completely, bone-achingly exhausted from all the hugs - no, _attacks -_ he had to endure. A bit of puppy therapy was a good way to end the day.

Shuffling footsteps came a moment later, but it had a different rhythm than the one he'd heard last time. Erik found out why a few seconds later when the door opened, and a very beautiful, slightly voluptuous young girl that was definitely not Charles Xavier stood before him.

Erik Lehnsherr felt slightly _\- slightly -_ disappointed, and was maybe also feeling just an imaginative twinge of something like jealousy, but that was absolutely ridiculous and Erik had no reason whatsoever to have even thought of that word.

The beautiful girl smiled at him. "Erik Lehnsherr, right? Come on in."

Confused, but really having no other option, Erik followed her into the house.

"I'm Raven," she said, holding out her hand. He took it and shook it. "I'm Charles's sister. He's a little late today from work, but he'll be here soon. Coffee?”

"Yes, please." Something like relief trickled through him, but again, Erik had no reason whatsoever to have even thought _that_ word either.

"Make yourself comfortable over there."

Erik wandered over to the sitting room from last time and plopped himself down in the same place. He tapped a tune out on his knee as he waited.

"Here you go." Raven walked over and handed a steaming cup to Erik.

"Thank you."

"So Erik," she said brightly, sitting down closely next to him, "what do you think of Charles?"

"Oh, um…" Erik flailed. The only thing he could think of right now was puppies, but that wasn't really a legitimate answer. "He seems like a very nice person."

"Just nice?"

"Well, intelligent, considerate…I'm sorry, I don't know him well enough to form a more detailed opinion."

"Mmm…fair enough," Raven said with a flirtatious smile, eyeing him up and down.

Erik flushed and stared at the swirling patterns his coffee made. She was very beautiful and he wasn't often observed by women - or by people, at all. His smile alone was enough to freeze a mosh pit.

"Shy, too…" Charles' sister shifted closer, and touched the Snugglator with her hands. Her eyes widened just as Charles' had. "Oh my god, what is this?"

"Job uniform," Erik answered.

"It's _incredible._ Oh my god…" She breathed, shocked with amazement, grabbing onto more of the sweater. "Sorry, I know, like, you're only signed up to snuggle Charles, but can I…have a sample?"  Erik shrugged, not particularly caring, turning to face her and opening up his arms a bit, feeling exceptionally awkward. Squealing, she launched herself into his sweater and burrowed. She gave a sensual moan and Erik flushed again.

There was a very clear throat-clearing noise behind them, and they both turned to see Charles standing at the doorway.

Raven's head popped out of the navy-blue like a mole, and her face brightened. "Charles!" she exclaimed. "Erik's here!"

"Yes, I can see that." Charles turned to Erik. "I'm terribly sorry. The clock in my office was broken, and I worked slightly overtime as a result. I hope you didn't wait too long."

Erik nodded and shrugged. "Raven was my company."

Raven extricated herself from the marsh of cozy sweaterland - just a tad reluctantly - and skipped towards Charles. She took his hand and pushed him towards Erik. "You've still got more than an hour left. I'm heading over to Hank's now. So, you know. House will be _all_ yours."

"Raven…"

"Make _good_ use of it."

_"Raven."_

"Yeah yeah. Have fun." She winked dramatically at the two of them, and pranced out. Charles was a very deep shade of red that Erik definitely did not find absolutely endearing.

"I'm sorry," sighed Charles. "She's always been like this."

"It's fine. She's very sweet."

Charles smiled fondly. Erik felt like petting him again. "Yes, she is. We grew up together, and she's always been there for me. I owe her quite a lot, emotionally. Do you have siblings?"

"No."

Unfortunately, there wasn't much to say after shooting down a conversation starter like that. Erik wondered if maybe he should have said that he'd like to have siblings, or that his parents had siblings, or that he knew people who had siblings, before Charles thankfully saved him from mucking further into dangerously idiotic introspection.

"Anyway, would you like to come to a different room to, ah, cuddle, this time? The sofa here is a little cramped."

"Sure."

Erik followed Charles up a staircase and down a long hallway, listening to Charles chat about the house and its history, giving him a small history lesson about Westchester Mansion, while Erik mumbled generic statements of wonder and conversational fillers. Erik was not paying as much attention to the words as he did to the voice, and he was lost in the soft, comforting British accent. He might also have been a tiny bit distracted by the plush posterior moving rather suggestively in front of him - but that may just be his exhaustion speaking.

Before he knew it, they arrived at their destination, and -- oh no.

A _bedroom._

With a bed that was bigger than a bed had any business being. With very, very soft-looking covers which had a tempting coziness rivalling that of a Snugglator.

Erik panicked. This was not happening again.

"Maybe not this room," he said, a little too quickly.

"Oh? Why not?" Charles asked, looking up at him with innocent confusion.

"Because… because…" _Goddammit,_ Charles was making this so _difficult._ His face, a perfect combination of big boo boo eyes, red lips and cherry cheeks, was altogether a terrifying weapon too powerful for Erik to fight while remaining "a man of his words" to Snuggle Buddies policies.

"It's a lot more comfortable than the sofa from before," said Charles, strolling nonchalantly into the room. He plopped onto the bed and sank into the puffy covers. He patted the spot next to him, looking almost pleadingly up at Erik.

Rigidly, awkwardly, unable to resist the pull of that bewitching blue, Erik moved robotically across the carpet and sat down, like a bowling ball, next to Charles, who crawled towards him with a winning smile.

"You're quite tense," Charles remarked, worming his hands into Erik's sweater and pulling back at it. Erik's rigid muscles interfered with his thoughts about escaping and they both tumbled down onto the bed, Erik on top of Charles. "Won't you relax a little, for me? It's rather _hard_ to snuggle with someone so _stiff._ "

If Charles could read Erik's mind at the moment, he'd only find static.

"Ch…"

“Oh, Erik, _really_ ," said Charles, with a half-lidded smile and a breathy voice that went straight to Erik's crotch. Fuck. The bread was rising and the off-switch was broken. Azazel was going to murder him.

His muscles gave way and he tumbled onto Charles' body. _Little Charles_ poked up into his thigh and for a second Erik saw himself walking towards a guillotine with Azazel at the rope. Charles made a sound of pleasure that made the guillotine sparkle, and they spooned, the small British professor proceeding to take Erik's arms to wrap around his own body, wiggling his back and butt into Erik's sweater like it was nobody's business.

And Erik… _god_ , Erik felt _good_.

Charles was so warm, so nice. The bed was so warm, so nice. Add those two pleasant things to the unspeakably comfortable texture of the Snugglator against his skin, after an extremely, horrifically long day at work…well.

Nobody should blame him for what he did next.

***

"Are you…are you comfortable now, Erik?" murmured Charles. "This bed is a wonder, isn't it?"

Erik said nothing, and didn't move either. The man seemed to be breathing very heavily and Charles thought that Erik may still be a little nervous.

"You really needn't worry," he said reassuringly. "I realize the strictly platonic aspect of your job, but would anyone really need to know?"

The man still didn't move, didn't speak. Hm. Taciturn though the mechanic may be, he had always given Charles signs of acknowledgment whenever Charles spoke to him. Something was off.

"…Erik?" Charles turned around.

Then Charles' world stopped.

Erik was _asleep._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And Charles had been trying so very hard


	5. He Couldn't Fucking Believe This

He couldn't fucking believe this.

He'd never been so, _so_ insulted in his entire life.

Charles violently pushed himself off of Erik and the bed, jerking Erik awake. Erik blinked groggily and frowned - Charles would have found it endearing had he not been so supremely and royally put _out_ \- as the man tried to surface to reality. Erik squinted at him, looked down at the bed, and then a horrified realization dawned on his face.

"Oh _fuck_ , I'm so sorry, I'm so sorr--"

"You--! You are _so_ …!" Charles trembled, struggling for words. He felt like crying. "You are _unbelievable!"_

Erik stood there flapping his mouth helplessly, and, to Charles' dismay, quite adorably, too.

Afraid that Erik's handsomeness might quell his anger, Charles stomped out of the room, determined to preserve this grudge. Erik was his first - no, _second,_ now - fail in a whole lifetime of consecutively successful seductions, and he felt unreasonably mad at this stupidly hot asshole for breaking his streak.

Yes, that's right, it was all _Erik's_ fault, and no amount of academically sound reasoning was going to convince him otherwise. At the moment.

Because honestly.

Erik had fallen… asleep.

_Asleep._

_In the middle of_ \--

Charles was going to sulk and no one was going to stop him, goddammit.

***

Erik raked a hand through his hair.

"Charles! Charles, please, wait--" Erik followed the angry puppy out.

Angry puppy didn't stop. Angry puppy kept stomping down the hall.

"Charles--" Erik kept trying, following, fumbling. God, he felt _bad_. Not only did he sleep on his job, who the fuck fell asleep in the middle of - well, for all intents and purposes - sex? "I'm sorry…"

"Oh, piss off."

Erik had not meant to nap. The bed had been so comfy, his sweater so soft, and Charles had smelled and felt so _nice_. Really, who wouldn't drift off hugging a puppy scented like fresh laundry and books?

"Charles…"

They continued to make their way through the mansion in an angry march.

Erik constipated over whether he should continue this idiotic parade, or just leave quietly, but then realized almost instantly after passing three spirals of staircases and probably a couple hundred rooms that the Westchester Hogwarts was a freaking maze and he had been so stupidly engrossed with Charles' voice and butt during the initial tour that he hadn't paid enough attention to remember how to get back out and escape Charles' wrath.

So he _had_ to appease Charles in the end, anyway.

Angry puppy finally stopped, and Erik nearly bumped into him. Angry puppy whirled around to stare furiously at him - adorably.

"I _can't_ believe you just -- how _could_ you just--" Charles was shaking, his cheeks pink with indignant rage.

Erik's hands itched to pet him. _God_ his thoughts were so out of place.

"I… I…" The constipated Snuggler couldn't think of an excuse, but those terrible blue eyes seemed to threaten an answer out of him. The Snuggler was a big, strong man with a reputably scary disposition, but couldn't seem to get his poop together under the gaze of a small, pouting _puppy_.

What was left? The truth. "You… you smelled really nice," blurted Erik.

Charles' face blanked out at the unexpected answer. His eyebrows hit the ceiling.

Internally, Erik surrendered his dignity completely and waved his pride goodbye with a hysterical smile. Meh. He'd already sold his soul to the devil (bless Azazel) when he'd lost at checkers last week and agreed to become a SnuggleBuddy.

"You were… very comfortable," he struggled. "The bed was... comfortable. Work was exhausting today, and I couldn't help it. You...smelled really - nice.  And warm."

Charles took a long moment.

"…Oh," he said.

"Sorry," Erik said again.

***

Charles wasn't sure what to think. Part of him still wanted to hold onto the grudge because he had _pride_ as a seduction master and he still couldn't really believe  that this handsome idiot before him seemed completely immune to Charles' Charms, but another part of him… was a little happy to hear Erik's reason, oddly.

Just a teensy bit.

He wasn't really sure why, but he assumed it had something to do with knowing that Erik's immunity stemmed from Erik's exhaustion, not from any decline in his seduction skills.

Charles still felt miffed, though. "So I was just a rest stop for you?"

Erik opened his mouth, closed it, then looked extremely exhausted. "I suppose so. I'm sorry."

Charles pursed his lips, trying to maintain a semi-grudgy expression, but Erik seemed so adorably tired and meek that flirty professor decided to put aside his flirtiness for one day. He sighed and looked at the clock. "All right. You can - you can leave early, if you'd like. I'll still pay the full amount for your... services. Or--" he couldn't help adding this "--you can, uh, stay and, ah, _rest…_ a little longer."

Erik raised his eyebrows. "You don't mind?"

"You're tired."

"Yes, but..."

"Erik, it's fine." The humiliation that had previously simmered inside Charles was now rapidly cooling and giving way to propriety, and also perhaps to a bit of guilt for having exploded over such a small thing as not being fucked. "Come on." Charles beckoned him to follow and they walked back to the bedroom. "So what did you do at work today that has you so exhausted?" he asked, conversationally.

Erik hesitated. "Snuggling... people. All day."

Charles stopped, confused. That wasn't exactly a labour-intensive job. "Don't you just... snuggle?"

"Well, you don't know my customers."

"I'm one of them."

"They are nothing like you, trust me."

"Oh? What are they like?" Charles thought he was a pretty bad one already, having persistently hit on a man who very explicitly stated on numerous occasions that his job was to be strictly _platonic_.

Erik looked haunted. "Let's just say I never knew how… desperate… people can get for physical attention."

Charles widened his eyes. "How much worse than what I… ?"

"No no," Erik shook his head. "Not like that. Just imagine a large group of rabid hounds unleashed on you one by one."

Charles looked at him for a second, and then burst out laughing. Erik looked confused and irritated. "I'm sorry, my friend," Charles choked out, "it's just the first time I've heard 'snuggling' being described in such, well, _horror_."

The poor man managed a weak glare. "You should come visit some time. Then you'll see what I mean."

"Oh! May I really?"

"Yes. Though there may be a line up."

"You're quite popular, aren't you?"

Erik looked pained. "I don't know why. I'm all bones and terrible smiles. There's absolutely nothing cuddly about me." He genuinely, truly looked confused and oblivious to the overpowering _handsome_ he exuded, and Charles lusted for him more for that. Flirty professor fought hard to keep _it_ down.

"Anyway, here we are… again," announced Charles, opening the door of the previous bedroom with an exaggerated flourish to dismiss any residual awkwardness from before.

"Thanks. Are you sure…?"

"Yes, yes. Go on, now."

Erik hesitated for a moment, looking uncertain.

"What is it? I could sleep with you again," said Charles teasingly. Then he realized his stupidity and turned red. "No - I meant - I - no, I won't be doing _that_ , so you don't have to look so alarmed. You seemed to have, ah, drifted off quite quickly when you were with me. So I could help you with your rest. For all that you've put up with. Me. That's… uh… yes," he finished rather pathetically.

At this rate, Charles thought hopelessly, he may never score a one-night _-anything._

A faint flush seemed to creep up Erik's neck and pooled into the edges of his cheekbones. "Actually… yes, I wouldn't mind that," Erik said.

Charles beamed at him, feeling all of a sudden rather giddy inside. He didn't bother reflecting on what that meant.

"Let's settle, th -- oh," said Charles, surprised at the hand Erik had offered him, palm up. Erik looked as though it were perfectly normal, so Charles shrugged, blushed a little, took it, and allowed Erik to gather him into his arms as they lowered themselves onto the bed. They laid down as they had previously, but this time, instead of spooning, Charles was facing Erik's very prominent Adam's apple.

"Is this all right?" Erik murmured above his head.

Charles nodded. "And you?"

"It's fine."

They were silent for a while, each simply enjoying the feeling, the moment. Charles felt incredibly _safe_ in Erik's arms; it was warm here, protective, and though it pleasured him in a way different from that of sex, Charles was surprised to find that he still enjoyed it very, very much, if not more. Erik rubbed small, gentle circles across his back. He pushed his head closer to the crook of Erik's neck, nuzzling into the collar of the soft sweater. Erik's musky, wonderful scent enveloped him in blanket of hazy pleasantness.

"Your sweater is very, very comfortable," Charles said dreamily.

Erik continued to rub. "Mmm. Unfortunately. I can't stand wearing anything else now."

"Just as well. Your cuddles are absolutely priceless."

"A mystery of the ages."

"Oh, but Erik, you _are_  a good cuddler."

"Would you say the same thing had I worn something different?"

"I believe I would."

Erik snorted.

"No, I'm serious." Charles looked up earnestly.

"Yes. Right." Erik evidently didn't believe him, but Charles didn't want to spoil the moment with an unnecessary argument.

***

Erik almost felt like humming, he was so wonderfully, marvelously, extraordinarily _comfortable_.

The blanket was warm, as before; the bed was soft, as before; Charles smelled nice, as before; and Charles _felt_ … amazing. As before.

Charles said something quietly beneath him that he couldn't quite catch.

"Hmm?" he murmured into Charles' soft brown hair.

"Thank you for agreeing to… continue," said the bashful puppy.

"Oh," said Erik sleepily. "Well, of course. I like to finish my jobs."

Charles stiffened slightly in his arms. Unsure of the reason or if he had perhaps imagined it, Erik, feeling too drowsy to start a conversation, simply brought his arms around the smaller man closer together. One hand continued to rub soothing patterns on the puppy's back while the other slid up to card his fingers through Charles' soft, soft hair in what he hoped was a calming touch. In response, Charles relaxed and snuggled closer to Erik's body, burying his face into Erik's neck with a sigh.

Thus cuddled, sexy mechanic and flirty professor drifted into a contented, dreamless sleep that was later interrupted, to the blushing irritation of both men, by one blonde model and her rather irrationally enthusiastic squeak of delight.

Still, Erik thought, as he strolled back to his car in the cool evening air, he'd never quite experienced such relaxation before.

He could almost forgive Azazel and Emma.

Almost.

***

"Do you think we should tell him?" asked Emma.

"What? About _that_?" asked Azazel.

"Huh? Oh come on, _no way_." Janos finished his beer. "That is the _best_ part of this whole thing, man."

Emma smirked. "If you're sure."

"Of course I'm sure. Let's see how long it takes him to realize that  _the platonic rule doesn't actually exist."_

They cackled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asshole trio will be assholes. I love them so much.


	6. Just A Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff. Lots and lots of fluff.

Charles drove down an anally congested avenue through Manhattan, gripping the steering wheel tight with frustration, but with far less intensity than he usually did during traffic jams on the way home.

Because _Erik_ existed.

He'd only flipped the bird twice during his drive home so far, compared to his usual thirteen at this particular junction. It really was quite an improvement.

And Raven had been true to her word and had stopped bothering him about his love life.

Life was good.

As he sat waiting for the battered blue buggie in front of him to move another inch - he suspected it was driven by a very, very old lady, what with the puff of white hair peeking out from above the driver's seat - Charles' eyes caught the glassy glint of a nearby building. It was a gorgeous piece of modern architecture, branded by large steel letters at its top. He casually admired the structure for a few seconds before realizing what the words said.

_"You should come visit some time. Then you'll see what I mean."_

Gosh. Did he dare?

It was Tuesday today. He would see Erik later anyway. But Charles wanted to. Would he seem like too much of a stalker? Had Erik been serious or had he only meant it as a joke? Did it seem presumptuous? What if--

There was a jolting beep behind him, and Charles took one look at the two inches the granny in front of him had moved in the past ten minutes, and made a decision before he could think better of it.

***

Charles waited in the foyer of the building. He twiddled his thumbs nervously.

Was this all right? Charles had no idea why he should feel so anxious. This was, after all, Erik's _job_ ; it wasn't like Charles was invading the privacy of a CEO, or an office worker, or even Erik's private life. No, this was Erik's _job_. Erik himself had somewhat invited him for a casual visit, and the Snuggle Buddy employee should feel happy that his customer had taken him up on his offer to bring him more business.

But even after several minutes of logical self-persuasion, Charles still felt incredibly _silly_.

The fact that most of the people around him, similarly waiting for their names to be called up to Erik's office (the line-up had gotten so long by now that the administration had to split it up by capping it to eighty people and forcing the rest to wait in the foyer), were frittery middle aged women and giggly teenage girls did not make him feel better in the slightest. Technically, he was one of them.

Charles leaned back and took out his cell phone under the pretense of checking his messages and texting when he really only stared at his pathetic reflection. He sighed.

He wondered what Erik thought of him.

He thought about Erik.

Erik and his iridescent eyes, chiseled face and large, elegant hands. His sculptured body and mile-long legs that Charles wanted to run his fingers on. His focused gaze, his laugh, his voice, his smiles, his blunt and open personality…

"Charles Xavier?"

An assistant waited for him with a clipboard in her arms as she stood by a door. Charles stood up awkwardly and followed her out down a hallway. She punched a button and swiped a card in a slit beside the elevator, giving him brief directions and a retail worker's trained smile before walking away.

"Turn left, and follow the signs. Enjoy the Snuggles!"

Above all of his apprehensions and embarrassment, Charles was quite excited about seeing Erik. Though they've known each other for a massive total of one week, he felt he had a _connection_ with the man that wasn't purely due to business. It had been a long time since Charles had felt that spark, since Shaw…

The elevator dinged open. Swallowing, the determined Snugglee turned left and followed the assistant's instructions.

There was a spiralling lineup across the entire floor. Snuggle Buddy offices, also apparently titled "Snugglerooms", lined the four sides of the building. Most of them had their doors open, revealing slightly disgruntled Snugglers having nothing to do, in sweaters similar to Erik's. Some had a line up of two or three customers, and those had closed doors that opened only to receive one customer when another left.

But one door had a mini army of people lined up enthusiastically outside. _Erik Lehnsherr_ , said the gold plate above the frame.

Charles smiled widely and began walking towards the crowd.

Then the door opened.

The white panel slid inwards, like a curtain, to show a pretty young girl fitting snugly in Erik's arms, and Erik was smiling into her hair, like he had with Charles. With the same, dreamy expression that had taken Charles' breath away.

The world went cold.

Charles had expected it, hadn't he, _knew_ about it, knew that this was Erik's _job -_ he'd told himself that very same thing to convince himself to come here, hadn't he? And Erik had also called their sessions together a _job_ , so Charles really, really should have expected what he saw. Still, it didn't stop his heart from suddenly turning to lead. He found it difficult to breathe.

Oh god. When had he fallen so hard for this man?

He also realized that there were seventy nine people in front of him, waiting for a few moments in the arms of Erik Lehnsherr, who probably treated them all equally.

Charles was no exception. He'd only believed himself to be because he'd never seen Erik with anyone else as a Snuggler before.

A dead weight sat in his chest, and Charles turned to leave.

***

Erik hummed as he drove up the vast driveway to the now pleasantly familiar mansion.

Tuesday. One of Erik's two favourite days of the week.

Today had been an especially good day, because one of the Snuggling customers used the same shampoo as Charles did, or so his nose had told him. And he didn't feel like denying to himself any longer that any thought of _Charles_ made him _happy_.

Of course, he'd still keep that a secret from Azazel and Emma. There was no way he'd let them know he enjoyed any aspect of their god forsaken scheme.

Erik knocked on the door.

Several long moments of silence dragged by, as though nobody was home, and Erik had to check the time and day in case he had messed up the appointment time. No, it was the right day and time. More than five minutes passed, and Erik was on the verge of returning to his car when the familiar puttering footsteps sounded and the door opened. Erik began to smile, but stopped.

Charles looked completely miserable. His gorgeous blue eyes were dim and the lines on his face were deep with palpable unhappiness. Erik felt a sudden surge of protectiveness.

"Come on in," the young man mumbled more than said, not looking at Erik in the eyes.

"Charles? What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing! Nothing."

"It's obviously not 'nothing'," Erik frowned, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. Charles' face fell even further, and Erik softened his tone. "Tell me what's wrong."

Charles shook his head stubbornly. God, he looked so _cute_.

"Charles--"

The young professor cut him off by suddenly flinging himself into Erik's body, burying his face into the Snugglator with a heavy sigh. A little confused, but relieved to find that Charles somehow needed him, Erik returned the hug by wrapping him snuggly with his arms and running a gentle hair though the man's soft hair.

They stood like that in silence for several seconds before Erik decided that if this were to progress, they needed furniture. Erik nudged them towards the sitting room, but Charles hung on too tightly to notice, so Erik did the only thing that came to his mind then.

He lifted Charles off the ground.

"Wha--?!" Charles yelped.

Erik grinned. He had one arm around Charles' shoulder and the other under Charles' knees, just as he had seen those cheesy movie heroes rescue their heroines. It was the most romantic thing he could do without overstepping the boundaries of Platonicism. His muscled strained a little, but it was worth the deep blush that spread across Charles' fair skin.

"What are you doing?" Charles sputtered, clinging on to Erik's neck.

"Moving us somewhere we can snuggle more comfortably," he replied gruffly.

"I-I think we were perfectly fine where we were…"

"I wasn't."

"Oh."

They reached the sofa from the first day, and Erik sat down with a whump with Charles still in his arms, so that Charles ended up sitting on Erik's lap sideways, his arms still around the bigger man's neck.

Then they realized how close their faces were to one another's. Well, at least Erik did.

He couldn’t help his eyes flickering down to Charles' red, red lips, drowning as he was in those blue, blue eyes. That skin looked so soft, milky and fragrant…

...and Erik hugged Charles tightly instead.

That was _close_.

Erik nuzzled into the floppy, downy brown hair and Charles indulged him for a while, before pulling back. He was still blushing, bless him. "Do you always do that?" he asked softly, looking searchingly into Erik's eyes.

"Do what?"

"Smell people's hair as you snuggle?"

"What? Oh. Oh, god, no." Erik wrinkled his nose. "If I did, I'd lose my sense of smell. I never realized how many people don’t wash their hair regularly until I was given this job. But yours is fine-- Oh, did that bother you? I'm sorry," Erik said quickly, when Charles suddenly looked unhappy again.

"No, no, it's fine. I don't mind."

"Then what's on your mind? I'm a Snuggle Buddy, I'm supposed to cheer you, uh, up." Erik was surprised by his own words. After a week snuggling all manners of horrors, being sincerely cheesy came surprisingly easy to him now.

Charles chuckled and leaned back into Erik, nestling his head on Erik's collar. It was a perfect fit. "Don't worry about it, my friend. Truly. I'm all right. Why don't you tell me about yourself instead? For all the six hours we've spent together so far, I hardly know you."

"What do you want to know?" Erik stroked Charles head. Charles leaned into his touch, humming.

"Just…whatever you like. What makes you happy?"

"What makes me happy? Hm. I…love good food. I love a good chess game. I really love working with metal. It… listens to me, it's open about its qualities, it's clean and defined and so geometrically…" he trailed off, suddenly aware how intensely Charles' eyes were now trained on him. "Is something the matter?" he croaked.

"Yes," said his snuggling partner, dreamily. "Passion is a remarkably good look on you."

It was Erik's turn to blush.

***

So it seemed that whatever tension had been present when Charles had opened that door on Tuesday afternoon dissipated completely by the evening of the same day. A metaphorical wall was broken and they found that they got along extremely well. They snuggled, they bantered, chatted, and even occasionally played chess, when they wanted a break from the snuggling.

(In truth, their breaks were really just an excuse for both of them to repress the urge to do more, when Erik couldn't stand holding back his sexual impulses by sheer willpower any longer and Charles couldn't stand Erik finding out about his growing hard-ons.)

Charles discovered, after their Thursday session, that he wasn't even truly after Erik's body anymore - well, who was he kidding, he _was_ , but he rather enjoyed their not-sex time together as much as he had with thoughts about being ravaged by the sexy mechanic.

In fact, he enjoyed their sessions so much that he extended his Snuggle package for another two weeks, to Raven's loud delight.

Erik was also very, very happy. If he had Charles to look forward to, then he could more than bear the job.

Meanwhile, Emma, Azazel and Janos silently watched from the side, amused and happy for their ex-cranky friend.

They prepared some figurative popcorn and waited for the climax to begin.

 


	7. Let The Show Begin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lateness! Exams, you know. Hope you enjoy the angst 
> 
> ***EDIT: So apparently I uploaded the same chapter twice! Exam stress. Thank you avictoriangirl for letting me know! (And all the others who didn't say anything... I'm confused)

"Um, hey," Hank said nervously.

"Hank!" Raven greeted him, smiling big, cheeks bright and pink. "What's up?" She was lounging around the foyer of the modelling company's building, sipping a green tea Starbucks frappuccino. Everyone except for Hank was ostensibly busy at the moment with a shoot or a job, but Hank suspected that they had a much sketchier intention for staying away.

After all, Angel had passed a message to Alex who had passed it to Darwin who'd passed it to Hank, and when Hank suggested they go give it to Raven immediately, everyone coughed and booked it at the same time.

"I found something for you," he said, holding out his phone.

If they weren't going to help him, then they weren't going to get the credit. Tough poop.

"Mm?" Raven took it and read over it. Hank saw her eyes dart over the words again, and then she leapt up and blasted the foyer with a deafening squeal of triumph and a tight, tight hug for the lanky undergrad.

Hank shuffled his feet shyly, nervously.

"We're going. Now." Raven shot up to grab her coat and purse. She was halfway across the floor when she realized Hank wasn't beside her. "What are you waiting for? Come _on!_ "

"But but but--" Hank stuttered, flushing a bit. He gestured helplessly, worried about the disaster this escapade will inevitably turn out to be, and maybe a little nervous about being alone with Raven. After all, Hank wasn't Hank without his social -- especially romantic -- ineptitudes, and they were many. "What about your shoot? And what are you even going to do?"

"My shoot can wait. And I _do_ have a plan. I'll explain it in the car. I've been planning this for weeks, so you can chill your scientific prudishery about this being a spontaneous-bad-idea. If you're not coming, I'm going alone."

Judging by her atrociously illogical reasoning, Hank calculated with panic that letting Raven go alone would be far, far worse, and possibly even traumatizing, to both Erik and Professor Xavier, than if Hank were to tag along and at least anchor her plans to some semblance of sanity. Besides, he knew the professor quite well, and Hank felt morally obligated to provide some sort of safety for the man's life.

He sighed. "Okay."

***

Charles was filing away his reports and research data, about to leave, when his phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Charles!" It was Raven, and her smile reached him through her bright voice. It cheered him up; it had been another tremendously tedious day. "I can pick up you today, actually. My schedule cleared up. Hank's driving."

"Oh? Are you sure?"

"Yes!" For some reason or other, Raven sounded oddly enthusiastic, her bright tone reminiscent of her expressions whenever she tried to meddle with his nonexistent love life, but he could think of no cause for her to be like that _now_ , since he had Erik -- who, well, admittedly wasn't a "serious" relationship in that strictly technical sense, but Charles didn't think the distinction mattered all that much to Raven, who only wanted him to be _interested_ in one potential lover for more than a single night.

He shrugged off his niggling doubts.

"Splendid, then. Thank you very much, Raven."

"Cool. See you at two thirty."

A happy Raven arrived five minutes late, as per usual, and a contrastingly depressed-looking Hank sat waiting for them in the driver's seat. Hank smiled at their approach and helped with Charles' bags. "Hi, professor."

"Hello, Hank," Charles quipped back amicably. He peered at Hank with genuine concern. "All you all right, my friend? You look a little… "

Hank waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, it's nothing."

Then Raven distracted him with the new promising job offers and modelling contracts she'd received, and Charles forgot about Hank's moodiness, though he did passingly wonder at the young man's occasional deep sigh.

Soon afterwards, the car breaks down.

"I know a mechanic shop nearby," Raven chirped.

With the help of a couple good Samaritans and their truck, Charles, Raven, Hank delivered the car to the mechanic shop -- _Magnus',_ it was called -- according to Raven's directions. Once again, Charles noticed that she seemed awfully cheerful about their ride breaking down. Hank still seemed depressed and nervous, but that was reasonable since the car was Hank's. However, there didn't seem to be any reason to investigate Raven's peculiar behaviour, so he casually dismissed it as a random symptom of youth.

Until, as you may have already guessed, the owner of the shop came out.

"I'm going to kill you, Raven," Charles whispered.

She only giggled, hooked her arm in Hank's elbow, and the two of them strategically disappeared. Hank looked apologetic.

"Charles?"

"Um, oh, hi, Erik!" Charles turned around from his murderous glare at Raven and her minion, fumbling for a smile. It wasn't hard, with Erik looking perpetually dashing, most especially now in slacks stained with grease and a loose tank top that showed off the lean, veined muscles that glistened with sweat. He'd never seen Erik without the Snugglator and for goodness' sake why hadn't he made some sort of excuse in all their sessions together to get Erik to strip? God _help_ him. He flushed. "Is this your other job?"

"Yes. This is my main job. I live here too." Erik gestured up at the box-like apartment that sat above the shop.

"Oh. That's convenient."

Erik nodded, and then looked towards the car.

"The car broke down," Charles supplied helpfully.

"Has this happened before?"

"Oh I -- I don't know. It isn't mine, it's Hank's. He's the man with my sister over there." Charles seriously doubted that it had ever broken down before, considering the reason behind this particular case.

They both looked toward Raven and Hank. Raven was chattering excitedly about something, happy and cheerful and quite pretty, while Hank, to any passing stranger, stared at her with soft rapture in his face and looked to be utterly in love.

 _Ah_ , Charles thought. So that was why he'd helped Raven.

Erik seemed both surprised and amused, one eyebrow arching. "I take it you got dragged into a scheme of some sort?" The mechanic was familiar with Raven's mischievous and teasing nature.

"Well," Charles blushed. "In a way. Yes."

When Charles didn't indulge him with the details -- it would have to be pried from his cold, dead body -- Erik proceeded to open the car's hood to inspect the engine, fiddling around with the gadgets and screws and coils and whatever other car parts Charles didn't know the names of. He knelt to check under the car and Charles mentally drooled at the flexing back muscles.

"Do you find anything?" Charles asked.

Erik seemed to be taking his time. "Mmm." He stood back up and wiped his hands on his slacks, muscles rippling. Charles bit back the urge to trace the veins. "There seems to have been a minor… explosion."

" _Explosion_?" Charles gawked. How far had Raven and Hank gone?

"Yes. Very minor, though, not intended to cause major damage, just for your car to stop. It looks deliberate. Someone must have been opposed to the three of you getting to wherever you're going." Erik suddenly looked concerned. "Is there anyone who wants to harm--?"

"No no," Charles said frantically, waving his hands to stop that ridiculous train of thought. "No. Hank's a physical engineering major, so he may have been playing with his car and forgotten to take the thing out. Or something."

"Well, tell him to be careful." Erik frowned at the couple in the distance, where the two had progressed to shy touching. "There could have been an accident."

Charles chuckled. "Hank is meticulous, Erik, don't worry. This may have been, um, part of the scheme you mentioned."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Well, Janos and I will get the car into the garage and we'll repair it. Should take about a few hours. You can come inside and wait, or we can lend you a spare car."

Charles glanced over at Raven and Hank, who were now staring at each quite intently.

"Let's leave them be. I'll come inside."

Charles settled in one of the metal chairs as Erik went to get his co-worker and towed the car in. As he comfortably watched Erik work, sweaty and hot -- hot mechanics are _hot_ \-- a door by his side of the wall opened. From it emerged a tall, beautiful, blonde woman, dressed in white, holding what looked like a black turtleneck and a pair of male boxers. She looked ominously familiar. Charles squinted, but could not place her.

"Erik, sugar, are you doing the laundry today, or tomorrow? I found these behind the toilet and I thou--"

She stopped, as she caught sight of Charles. Her eyes widened in shock.

And that was when Charles realized why he'd felt that wave of déjà vu upon her appearance.

Because she was Emma-fucking-Frost, the girl he'd caught Shaw cheating on him with five years ago.

And she was now _Erik's girlfriend_ , because why else would she be _living_ with him, calling him _sugar_ , and holding Erik's _underwear_?

This was a fucking nightmare.

He had no idea Erik had a…

Oh, _oh_ , it _hurt_.

"Charles? Charles, wha--?"

Erik called after him, utterly confused, as Charles stumbled up and all but ran out of the garage, hoping that his sudden need to cry would stay back a little longer.

He didn't know where he went, but he just knew he had to leave the place, just for a while until he could get his shit together. For christ's sake, of _course_ Erik didn't reciprocate his feelings; he was only a customer, after all! Physical services like that had rules about this sort of thing. Erik had also made it abundantly clear that Charles was just a _job_. He'd brought this stupid heartache all upon himself. Erik had never indicated whether he was single or not, interested or not, and yet Charles felt utterly heartbroken, utterly _wrecked._

Charles sulked, leaning against a fence he'd abruptly come upon. He didn't know where he was, and didn't really care. Swallowing some of the tears that threatened to fall, Charles breathed out and was about to renounce any dealings in love forever when a soft hand fell upon his shoulder.

Emma Frost was beside him, her expression sorrowful and even a bit… guilty.

That was an odd expression to wear, since he couldn't think of a single reason how she'd know Charles fancied her boyfriend, but maybe she was apologetic about the incident five years ago. He had heard Emma broke up with Shaw immediately afterwards, but he couldn't be sure.

"Honey, it's not what you think you saw," she said quietly.

He sniffed. "Then what?"

"I'm Erik's… roommate. We're not… together. We used to be, but that was a couple years ago."

"Then why are you…?"

"We find each other better as friends than as lovers. You have nothing to worry about."

"Nothing to wo--" Charles frowned, confused. "How do you know that I was worrying about you and Erik?"

Emma chuckled. "Because Erik's always talking about you, sugar."

"He does?" Charles' heart skipped a beat.

"Yes. Frequently." She smiled. "You know, before we got him the Snuggling job, he was one grumpy jerk. But he's been a lot more upbeat since you've come into his life."

Well. Charles couldn't decide whether to feel embarrassed about that childish display of jealousy or extremely hopeful again about the gorgeous German mechanic. What an emotional roller coaster. But he remembered something that stopped him from fully smiling in return. "Erik's told me I -- snuggling -- he said it's all just a job…"

"That shouldn't stop you two from being together. Snuggle Buddies is pretty special in that there isn't a hard-and-fast rule about dating your customers. Erik's quite a good… uh. Oh. No wait," Emma added quickly, but it was too late. Charles heart was breaking apart again. Horror radiated from her face. "Charles, let me expl--"

But Charles was already sprinting away, chest full and bursting with a fresh wave of hurt.

 _Erik had made up the "platonic" rule?!_ He mentally screamed.

If that wasn't a clear sign of rejection, then Charles wasn't human.

***

Emma wrung her hands and smacked her forehead. She'd forgotten.

"Shit."

 


	8. Not Just A Job, Then

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR BEING SO LATE. I got a bit of a writing block (and let's face it; school) and then I got re-obsessed with drawing, so I put this off for a looong time, and before I knew it, a week became two months. PLEASE FORGIVE ME. I've inserted a drawing I did for this fic as a sorry excuse for an apology
> 
> OTL

 

([You can find the drawing on my tumblr](http://thacmis.tumblr.com/post/114186817321/fic-recs-rough-illustration-for-snuggle-me))

 

***

Emma looked terrible, and Erik was worried. Emma Frost lived up to her last name, and on the days that she didn't, something was undoubtedly wrong.

"Emma, what's wrong? Where's Charles?"

Even Janos looked concerned at the side.

"I…" Emma closed her eyes as the next words tumbled out of her mouth. "I told him."

Erik didn't understand, but it seemed that Janos did, because the Spanish man froze for a few moments before letting out an emphatic, " _Shit._ "

"What? What?" Erik demanded.

Janos opened his mouth, but Emma intercepted him. "Erik, we don't want to talk about this now. Could you give us some time? We'll talk to you after your shift tomorrow at Snuggle Buddies, before you go to Charles' session."

None of that sounded good. Tomorrow was Erik's last day at the horrendous company, and though he should have been happy, he did not want to walk out of it with an upset Charles. Charles was the only redeeming aspect of the job, and even grumbo Erik wasn't indecent enough to not show at least some gratitude towards the young professor for being such a _… wonderful_ customer. Erik frowned and attempted to cajole the information out of Emma, just to see if he could, but to no avail.

"No. Tell me now."

"Erik. We really -- this really isn't the time. We need to prepare."

Erik squinted his eyes in utter bafflement. " ' _Prepare'_?"

"Listen, don't worry," Janos cut in. "It's nothing _bad_ \-- okay, maybe it is, just a little -- but it's not something you won't be able to fix. If you try. A bit."

Actually, that sounded positively _alarming_. One didn't use as many euphemisms as Emma just did to not describe a terrible mistake one wanted forgiveness for.

"What did you do?" Erik said, dangerously.

Emma crossed her arms. She was having none of that. "You're not going to know until tomorrow."

They had a bit of a staring contest, but Emma won. She always did.

***

In the end, Charles never came back.

Raven and Hank had returned instead, both of them looking quite ravished -- Erik really, really did not want to know where they did their nature-dance, since they never came into the shop and there wasn't a suitably accommodating shelter anywhere nearby, but his traitorous imagination offered the very likely possibility of _the bushes_ \-- informing Erik that they'd gotten a text from Charles saying that Charles had taken a bus home due to unexpected business. When Erik and Janos finished repairing the car, it was Hank and Raven who came to pick it up.

Erik felt slightly panicked about this, the thought of the blue-eyed puppy being upset making _him_ upset as well.

It gnawed at him that night -- those betrayed, _hurt_ eyes and the possibility that _he_ was responsible for putting that terrible expression on such a lovely face -- and it gnawed so deeply more than it should that he was utterly confounded by the intensity of his unease, when he realized --

 _I_ like _him._

***

 _Took you long enough_ , Emma thought with a roll of her eyes, when she later passed by his room and saw him smiling stupidly at the wall.

***

"Congratulations! You've officially passed the bet--"

" _Get to the point_ ," Erik seethed. He'd waited all day for this. Azazel, Janos, and Emma all sat on the coach together in Azazel's office, and Erik stood before them, a little too jittery to sit. His three friends had linked their arms together like it was Doomsday.

"So, uh…"

"You see, Erik…"

"The 'platonic rule' doesn't exist."

It took a few seconds to let that sink in. When it did, Erik barked, " _What?"_

They flinched.

"We're sorry," they said meekly together, heads down.

"What do you mean it _doesn't_ _exist_?" Erik demanded angrily.

"It means Snuggle Buddies employers can date their customers, outside the building," Azazel informed him.

Erik stared.

"Why would you...?"

"Because," Emma said with difficulty. "Because you're the kind to want things -- or people -- more if they're out of your reach. So we thought we'd make things harder so you'd… but I guess it might have backfired."

A vivid flash of Charles' face right before the man had run out of Erik's shop invaded his mind again. He remembered again the shocked, sad, _hurt_ written all over those beautiful features, and he remembered how intensely it had hurt _him_ , how intensely he wanted to make that _stop_. Kind, sweet Charles would of _course_ be upset about being lied to.

Erik ran out of the office.

***

Erik pounded on the doorbell.

"Charles!" He called, and banged the doorbell some more. He'd been here for ten minutes, and he _knew_ Charles was in there -- he'd seen the movement of curtain and the peeking tuft of chocolate brown hair before that in a nearby window -- and he refused to leave before he sorted this out.

Finally, he heard the familiar puttering footsteps on the other side before the grand door swung open. Erik would have smiled with relief were he not shocked by Charles' bloodshot, tired eyes.

"I didn't know about it either," Erik blurted.

Charles turned his face away and snorted. "You needn't force yourself, Erik." Charles evidently didn't believe him. Erik didn't blame him. It had taken him an entire month to find out such a crucial workplace rule was fictitious, and that was inexcusable; Erik had considered himself more astute than most, but he may need to reassess that.

Erik stepped into the mansion, ignoring Charles look of mild outrage at the uninvited entrance. He closed the door behind him. "Charles, I'm not. I really, really didn't know." A hint of desperation seeped through his tone.

The professor must have caught it too, because the blue eyes finally looked up into Erik's, searching. Then he turned away again, and Erik followed. They ended up in the kitchen.

"My snuggling job was a bet," Erik explained. "I lost at checkers to Emma, Azazel, and Janos. They made me work at Snuggle Buddies for an entire month."

Charles picked at a bowl of fruits.

"I don't usually like physical contact," Erik continued. "So I hated the job. But they apparently wanted to use it to get me a… companion."

Charles finally decided on a banana. He began to peel it.

"They told me it was all strictly platonic for… I don't even know their reason…"  Erik trailed off as Charles began nibbling at the tip of the banana. "Emma said something about me wanting something I can't get. It's complete nonsense. But she's probably right somehow, since she knows most about me…"

Charles suddenly began biting into his banana with gusto.

Erik swallowed in fear.

"It -- took -- you an entire… _month_? Why couldn't you realize _sooner_?" Charles finally said, after swallowing the fruit with a violence that made Erik shiver. His eyes were red, angry, sad.

Erik rubbed his shoulder, slightly ashamed. "Yes. I'm sorry. I'm sorry about lying to you. But you must believe me when I say it wasn't intentional; they lied to me as well." Erik paused. "But even so, you really don't have to be so upset, because even if it weren't a lie, it wouldn't have made a difference to the service I gave you…"

Charles looked away, his cheeks deep maroon.

Erik furrowed his eyebrows, slightly confused. Charles seemed much more upset than the situation warranted, and that seemed odd, because surely the intelligent, award-winning _Professor_ Charles must see that whether or not the dating policy existed, _dating_ was completely unrelated to the _snuggling_ , and so its existence shouldn't have changed any bit of Erik's service, unless Charles _wanted_ Erik to ask him ou--

Oh. _Oh._ Jesus.

He allowed himself a moment to seriously wonder about the extent of his density.

Of course. Of _course_. Why else would Charles be so upset about Erik's _platonic_ rule, about Erik not "realizing sooner"? Erik remembered Charles' atrociously adorable attempts to seduce him in the beginning, but he'd always passed them off as an impersonal joke, or as a general part of Charles' personality. Maybe it had been that way at first, but now, it clearly wasn't the case. And then being told that Erik couldn't date him when he in fact _could_ , must have hurt, if taken the wrong way. Which is obviously what Charles did.

"…Charles?" Erik said softly.

Charles sniffed and blinked rapidly. "But that shouldn't -- I mean, people _break_ rules all the time for lo-- I -- I mean --" He stopped abruptly with an audible gulp, biting his lower lip and staring resolutely at the floor, embarrassed.

"Charles," Erik began, shocked, doing his very best to hold still and not ruin the moment by going over there and kissing the sweet hell out of that adorable creature, who may or may not appreciate such a pushy show of affection when he was so vulnerable.

"A-and I _mean_ ," Charles floundered, pushing on and ignoring Erik, "I thought you and _Emma_ were -- she and I -- my ex --"

Erik's blood boiled with sudden violent intensity. _"What?"_ He said sharply.

Charles bit his lips, expression grim. "You see, Emma and I had the same boyfriend, except he was --" Charles' voice caught, while his brilliant eyes blinked rapidly "-- he was _cheating_ on me with _her_ … and then she's in your _apartment_ holding your -- your bloody _underwear_ and I thought I'd lost -- oh it was happening _again_ and… so you can imagine why I was _upset_ ," Charles gushed out in one breath as though he'd been inflated with air for a long time and only just now allowed himself to let the rotten air go. Deflated now, Charles simply looked worn, and also unfairly squishy and sad, eyes averted. "If I'd known you had a -- a _girlfriend_ ," he said softly, "I wouldn't have -- I'd have just _cancelled_ everything--"

And that was it.

Erik crossed the distance between them in two strides and wrapped Charles tightly in a hug, before sweeping him into his arms and carrying off a sputtering, flustered puppy. His chest rumbled with jealousy and protectiveness, which he precipitated by holding onto Charles as tightly as he could.

"I _don't_ have a girlfriend," Erik growled into Charles' ear. Charles' eyes widened. "And don't you _dare_ think that you should ever have cancelled _me_."

Charles whimpered.

They arrived at the bedroom that symbolized Charles' failed first attempt at seducing Erik.

No, Erik thought. Charles _had_ succeeded. It just took them both a little while to realize it.

They plopped into the puffy blanket. The mechanic held firmly onto the smaller man, who stared up at him with those impossibly beautiful blue eyes, wide with shock and disbelief and hope and wonder and -- and without thinking at all, running purely on impulse, Erik kissed him, sweet, gentle, but assertive.

Charles was still, for a moment, shocked at Erik's sudden move. Sudden, perhaps, but not unexpected, so Charles could have gotten away if he wanted to. However, for a brief moment, Erik still felt a flutter of anxiety, wondering if he'd been too bold and if Charles appreciated a slower entrance into things, but then Charles began kissing him back in earnest, sucking and devouring Erik's lips like there was no tomorrow, and Erik turned up his kissing intensity a notch as well.

When Erik pulled away for breath, but only as far as he needed to go, Charles' eyes fluttered open. Inches away from that angelic face, Erik felt arousal stirring strongly within him, allowed to burn without restriction for the first time in this whole month, as he stared into those expressive oceans, and Charles panted slightly, flushed beautifully. Charles looked as though he were melting.

"I think I've wanted to do that for a while now," Erik said, as he went down for another kiss.

They came up for air again. "You really, really could have," Charles replied, the mildest reproach in his breathless voice.

Erik bit his lower lip and saw the flare of want in Charles' eyes. Grinning, Erik nuzzled into Charles' hair. "I know. But I -- I'm quite -- loyal to my… uh, honour." When he put it in words, it sounded rather idiotic. "Well, I'd already given Azazel my _word_ I wouldn't…"

"And I'm less important?" Charles _pouted_ , and that earned the red-lipped angel another aggressive kiss that left the latter panting and grasping wildly at Erik's Snugglator. "Oh, _oh_ , take the bloody thing off, show me your _body_."

Erik himself fumbled with Charles' cardigan and undershirt, and his hands wandered down Charles' pants, undoing it the same time he stroked Charles' hardness. Charles gasped and made the most _delectable_ sounds as Erik dotted kisses and sucked hickies down the pale, freckled throat.

Erik mumbled wordless noises of content, of compliments to Charles' flawless body, breath hot, licking at the sweet skin. He painted a shiny trail down the smooth expanse of perfect paleness, and then bit gently into the flesh, kissing and sucking and then continuing down to Charles' throbbing hard dick.

Charles _keened_.

Erik felt another bolt of lightning shoot up his cock.

"No, you're more than important," Erik mumbled, breath hot, licking at the sweet skin. "God Charles, you're so beautiful…"

"Hnnng, Eri -- _ahhhh_ ," Charles moaned, semi-coherent now. "And you're -- ah, nnn _nk_ \-- you're so _\-- oh,_ oh please, please, _Erik --_ " Charles whimpered as Erik slid his hands across Charles' rump and did something particularly interesting with his fingers.

He turned them over so that Charles was on his back, staring up at Erik with stray locks of chestnut hair in his eyes, his legs around Erik's waist. Erik leaned down to brush the hair away with his lips as Charles traced the lines of Erik's muscle, eyes heavy with desire, glimmering azure, a blossoming blush spreading across his pale, freckled skin, so becoming, everything topped off with a lovely, lovely, pair of red, red lips.

Charles looked absolutely _delectable_ , and Erik didn't hesitate to taste it all.

***

Charles woke up to orange sunlight streaming through the window. It was close to evening, and he was in bed. He turned, and saw his new lover looking fondly down at him, indigo eyes alight with pure love, his long arm swung protectively over the younger man's body. Seeing him awake, Erik shifted closer and snuggled him more tightly.

No more lonely, broken one-night stands.

Someone actually _wanted_ him. Someone as gorgeous and thoughtful and intelligent as Erik.

He really needed to thank Raven later.

Smiling with giddy joy, Charles buried his face in his Snuggler-lover's neck, inhaling the musky male scent that aroused him so much. Erik carded his fingers through Charles' hair and Charles melted into the touch.

"So this means I can get your excellent snuggles and attention for free now?" Charles mumbled into Erik's skin.

Erik chuckled, a deep rumbling laugh that resonated pleasantly off Charles' body.

" _Liebling_ , I have never once thought of you as a customer."

***

A few miles away, Emma, Janos and Azazel clinked cups.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL FOR READING AND BEING SO PATIENT. I APPRECIATE ALL THE KUDOS AND COMMENTS THAT I'VE GOTTEN WITH ALL MY HEART. <3 
> 
> I've finished more Cherik fics in the meanwhile. I just hope I have the motivation to post them.
> 
> I honestly hope you've enjoyed this :) (the last chapter may not be everything I wish it were but time has not been on my side. And I have no beta. Also, I can't write frickle-frackling for the life of me; I'm sorry, I know you were all expecting it, but just imagine it however you want it to be)


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